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premiere  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparsftra  sur  la 
dernidre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  — ^  signifie  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbole  y  signifie  "FIN". 

Les  cartes,  planches,  tableeux,  etc.,  peuvent  Atre 
film«s  a  des  taux  de  reduction  diffirents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  Atre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  clichA,  il  est  f  ilm«  A  partir 
de  I'angle  supArieur  gauche,  de  gauche  h  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'imagss  nAcessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  mAthode. 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

5 

6 

4 

MlCroCOW   RESOLUTION   TiST  CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TESf  CHART  No.  2) 


:S     /APPLIED   IIVHGE     I 


DC 


1653  East  Main  Street 
Rochester,   New  York        14609 
(716)  482  -  0300  -  Phone 
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USA 


!1 


■■    i 


.  t 


uA 


SAINTS,  SINNERS 


AND 


QUEER  PEOPLE 


•Rovelettes  mt>  Sbort  Stories 


BY 


MARIE  EDITH  BEYNON 


I 


NEW  YORK 
AUTHORS'  PUBLISHING  ASSOCIATION 

6^  Fifth  Avenue 


t  '         t 


COPYRIOHTKD,  1897, 
BY 

MARIE  EDITH   BEYNON, 


All  rights  reserved. 


iTlUfi^vl'  ""^^.^  ^^  ^^"«^t«'  «"^»  o(  tears. 
Of  bubbles,  rainbow  tinted  ere  tliey  break 

And  feel  in  every  pulse,  life's  keen  delight 
Our  tatening  souls,  meanwhile.Ttet  t  Itch 
The  commou  rhythu.,  w^e^  ^^^  the  wT^^ki^ 


I  dedicate  any  fi..t  book  to  my  hnsband.  whose  appm^iative 
encou..ag  ,  of  my  small  literary  talent,  is  a  strong  stimj 
lus  to  Its  deyelopment.-MABiB  Edith  Bevnon. 


m 


SAINTS,  SINNEKS  AND  QUEEEf  EOPIE. 


AN  APOSTLE  OF  HATE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

It  w^  a  small  frame  church  with  gable  front 
and  arch.„g  roof,  standing  alone  on  the  prairie 
except  for  a  few  wooden  buildings  straggling  t^ 
the  right  a,,d  left.  The  evening  se.;L  la^ 
nearly  ended  and  the  warm  summer  dusl,  heavy 
with  the  perfume  of  wild  roses,  was  creeping 
through  the  aisles  enfolding  the  bowed  figure! 
Pf  the  congregation,  as  the  minister  offered  up 
iiie  closing  prayer. 

He  was  a  delicate  looking  man,  slight,  youth- 
fuUnd  of  medium  height,his  countentnc;  "sick- 
lied o  er  with  the  pale  cast  of  thought,"  and  his 
voice,  which  was  a  clear  treble  like  that  of  a 
woman,  rose  and  fell  upon  the  solemn  hush  like 
the  plaintive  inflections  of  an  ^olian  harp, 
bi.aU.ed  upon  by  the  winds  of  a  celestial  clime 


'ather,  whose  ioye  and  mercy  are 


6      SAINTS,  SiNNSnS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

freely  bestowed  like  the  clew  of  heaven  upon 
every  living  creature,  look  upon  us  now  as  we 
kneel  before  Tliee.     We  acknowledge  our  mani- 
fold transgressions  and  hardness  of  heart.     We 
piay  that  Thou  wilt  give  us  the  spirit  of  ten- 
derness and  divine  comptission  for  all  who  are 
in  the  throes  of  sin  and  suffering.     Help  us  to 
feel  one  another's  needs  and  bear  one  another's 
burdens  that  we  may  be  joined   together  as 
membei-s  of  one  body,  serving  and  glorifying 
Thee.     Inspire  us  to  go  forth  in  Thy  nanre  on  a 
mission  of  love  to  raise  the  fallen,  cheer  the 
•  desolate  and  pour  the  oil  of  joy  into. hearts  that 
mourn.     May  we  be  meek  and  lowly,  gentle  and 
forgiving,  always  endeavoring  to  reflect  in  our 
lives  the  mind  of  the  Master." 

As  the  simple,  pleading  prayer  continued,  a 
man  sitting  in  one  of  the  front  pews,  fidgetted 
uneasily,  and  finally  uncovered  his  face  which 
had  been  devoutly  hidden  in  his  hands,  and  sa,t 
bolt  upright.  He  was  past  middle  age  and  of 
uncouth  aspect.  His  rugged  face  was  deeply 
lined,  and  his  shaggy  eyebrows  almost  met 
above  small  piercing  browii  eyes  that  had  a 
sinister  expression. 

When  the  last  worshipper  had  gone  out  and 

the  minister  stepped  down  from  the  pulpit,  this 

man  with  a  slouching  gait  mr}^.  his  way  along 

4he  aisle  and  joined  the  little  knot  of  people 


^if  APOSTLM  OP  HATH.  7 

xvho  had  lingered  I«l,i„d  t„  shake  hands.     He 
wa.  a  fama,a,.  %„,,,  eve.y  one  seemed  to  k„o^ 

"Evenin'  Hewson,"said  the  men  with  a  bob 
of  the,.- heads.     «  How's  the  missus  ■>" 

gruffly,  "and  I'm  glad  of  it,  it  ,vill  keep  her 
away  from  that  whining  class-meeting." 

_The  men  laughed,  though  somewhat  constmin- 
fl!r<  /';:'«  «°'»'"only  remarked  among  them 

and  tha    apart  from   his  vindictive  spirit   he 
wasn't  a  bad-hearted  old  fellow.'    But  hf    1 ', 
attempts  at  ],„mor  were  not  always   well  r,. 
ceived,   I,cy  savored  too  much  of  vulgarity. 

sholet''''^'^''^'"''"^'^^^»™''-'^-t'>e 
olu.  t  friendliness.    "The  hotel  is  a  poor  place 

a  bone.  My  woman  isn't  well,  but  my  daughter 
Kate  IS  as  spry  as  ever,  and  we'll  manage  to  make 
you  comfortable."  * 

The  informal   invitation  was  accepted,  and 
fte  two  men  walked  along  together  in  the  gather-  " 

Step  and  clerical  dignity  of  mien,  the  older  one 
w.th  low,  slipshod  movement.    ITiey  exchanged 

casual  remarta  on  "'"i; ^     •  -  ^ 

.     .-_-„_s  on  ^xvcixiaij    lupics.    It  was  the 


8      SAiNTS,  StKK^nS  AND  QTTEETl  PmPLE. 

reverend"  ge^itleman's  first  visit  to  the  town ; 
he  had  come  to  supply  for  one  Sunday  a  vacancy 
in  the  pastorate,  and  his  mind  was  full  of  the 
vague  impressions  which  were  always  stirred  in 
him  by  contact  with  new  people. 

"How  is  the  church  spiritually?"  he  asked. 
"While  I  was  preaching  I  was  unpleasantly 
struck  with  tl^e  unresponsiveness  of  the  congrega- 
tion. A  speaker  soon  learns  to  know  intuitively 
the  minds  of  his  hearei-s." 

"  I  guess  the  people  are  all  right,"  said 
Hewson  gruffly,  "but  you  are  all  wrong,  if 
you'll  excuse  plain  speaking.  We  don't  want, 
milk-and-water  sermons  about  love  and  charity. 
We  want  something  that  will  knock  the  wind 
out  of  God-forsaken  sinners  and  let  them  see 
how  abominable  they  are  in  the  sight  of  man  as 
well  as  God." 

"Eh?  what's  that,"  asked  the  preacher, 
coming  as  suddenly  out  of  the  warm  glow  of 
spiritual  exaltation  as  if  he  had  received  a  cold 
shower-bath. 

"  This  ,whining  about  mercy  and  fo'rgiveness 
to  our  fellow-men  is  all  a  sham.  If  we  were 
angels  we  could  live  like  angels,  but  we  are 
here  on  earth,  and  we've  got  to  fight  for  our 
rights  if  we  expect  to  have  any.  '  An  eye .  for 
an  eye  and  a  tooth  for  a  tooth,'  that's  my  doc- 
trine, and  I  live  up  to  it.    The  Hewsons  are 


d 


AH  APOSTlE  OP  BATE. 
It  hot  for  their  enemies.    The  man  who  iniures 

the  XS""'™*  *"  """'^  ^""t  '^^  for 

The  preacher  turning  to  look  at  this  man  who 

had  suddenly,  to  his  mind,  assumed  the  "h!™ 

ofa^mo„ster,saw  his  e,e  glisten  with  mZ 
qu'i'eUy!^""*  "ember  of  the  church?"  heasked 
"I  am,  and  then  again  I'm  not.    My  name 

I  aon  t  sit  at  the  communion-table  or  attend 
class-meetings.    I  dmw  the  line  there." 
_rou  experienced  a  change  of  heart  ?  " 
^  '•on  '  know  just  what  you  mean  by  that 
I  stopped  drinking  and  swearing,  that  is,  We^: 

faTe     ZZr"""':''  """^  *""«'»  "SU  about 

charactei.     I  owe  no    man    anything,  neither 

noney  norgrudges.     I  pay  them  all  off  n  qS 

time  and  with  interest."  "i  qmci 

They  had  reached  the  house  by  this  time,  and 

Kate  Hewson,  a  large,  well-built  girl  with  rosy 

cheeks,  met  them  at  the  door.     ,  *"«»  «»y 

as  's'.f^?'^?''  '■77'""'' ''°''''"  *«  '^^  "n^^iously 

as  she  ushered  them  into  the  dimly-lighted  par 

lor,  with  ita  stiff  l.«ir»i,,.-  t-      ■.       ^    -     P" 

i.Bii-^iotu  lurnuure  and  dried 


10     SAINTS,  SINNEHS  and  QUilEli  PEOPLE. 

grasses   in  vases.     "I'm  afraid  she'll  not  get 
better  unless  there  is  a  change  soon." 

"  Nonsense,"  said  her  futlier,  as  he  hung  his  hat 
on  a  peg  in  the  hall.     "  There's  more  life  and  grit 
in  your  mother  than  there  is  in  you.     She's  good 
for  twenty  years  yet.     If  she  would  stop  worry- 
ing she  would  be  all  right.     Women  are  queer," 
turning  to  the  preacher,  who  had  found  a  chair 
for  himself  and  was  rubbing  his  white  hands 
together  in  a  nervous,  preoccupied  manner.     "  If 
they  can't  get  up  any  conscientious  qualms  on 
their  own  account,  they  fret  about  the  wrong- 
doings of  other  people.     Whenever  my  woman 
gets  sick,  she  takes  it  into  her  head  that  I'm  in 
danger  of  losing  my  soul.     She  calls  me  to  her 
bedside  and  says,  *  John,  it  grieves  me  that  you 
are-sohaid  and  cruel,  don't  you  think  you  could 
learn  to  forgive  ?  '" 

"  A  blessed  lesson  to  learn,  and  one  which  the 
good  Master  taught,"  murmured  the  minister. 

"  And  I  say  to  her,''  continued  Mr.  Hewson, 
chuckling,  *  Tut,.  Mary,  you've  lived  with  me 
long  enough  to  know  that  it  isn't  in  my  nature 
to  forgive.  As  long  as  I  get  tlie  better  of  my 
enemies,  and  come  out  on  top  every  time,  what's 
the  use  of  worrying  ?  You  ought  to  be  proud  of 
our  family  spunk.  It's  a  fine  grade,  I  can  tell 
you.  A  1  hard.'  Is  the  table  set  for  lunch, 
Kate  ?    That's  right.     Come  along,  Mr.  Ingram. 


AN  APOSTLE  OF  HA  TE.  j  i 

A  man  can't  talk  at  the  rate  you  did  tomVl.fc 
without  needing  something  to  sustain  liis  inner 
man." 

They  sat  down  at  the  table,  and  Mr.  Hewson 
served  his  guest  with  ham  and  brown  bread, 
while  Kate  poured  the  tea.     The  liost  continued 
to  talk  at  a  lively  pace,  but  the  preUcher  was 
singularly  silent.     He  was  puzzled  to  know  how 
to  address  a  person  whose  spiritual  state  was 
such  an  enigma,  and  whose  standards  of  right 
aving  showed  such  a  mixture   of  pharisaical 
complacency,  ignorance,  and  cruelty.     Undoubt- 
edly It  was  a  fine  opportunity  for  scriptural  ex- 
hortation, but  how  can  tlielightpenetrate  where 
the  windows  are  darkened  ?    It  is  hard  to  open 
the  eyes  of  a  self-blinded  man.     Moreover,  the 
simple  earnest  nature  of  the  preacher,  free  from 
those  hidden  reserves  of  evil  which  feed  like  a 
vulture  upon  the  moral  sensibilities,  was  repelled 
by  this  accidental  glimpse  of  something  beyond 
Its  own  depth.    He  was  mild,  unobtrusive,  and 
harmless.     He  didn't  know  how  enemies  were 
made,  having  been  in  the  ministry  only  a  short 
time  and  not  having  had  occasion  to  oppose  any 
popular,  social,  or  legislative  enterprise. 

But  he  was  well  grounded  on  the  Biblical 
view  of  the  question,  and  if  necessary  could  and 
would  quote  certain  forcible  passages  and  follow 
them  up  with  a  few  explanatory  remarks,  as  h^ 


12      SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QUEICIi  PEOPLE. 

did  in  hia  sermons.  He  hoped  it  would  not  be 
iiecessaiy,  and  tliat  his  host  would  spare  him  any 
f uither  revelations  of  an  intimate  nature.  With 
innate  delicacy  he  shrank  from  unpleasant  dis- 
closures, for  the  life  of  a  father  confessor  had 
for  him  the  distracting  torture  of  a  scries  of 
nightmares. 

To  avoid  a  continuation  of  Mr.  Hewsoii's  ego- 
tistical confidences,  he  ventured  cautiously  upon 
a  stream  of  small  talk,  not  unmindful  the  while 
of  his  ministerial  responsibility  and  the  fact 
that  it  was  the  Sabbath.  He  commented  favor- 
ably on  the  weather,  praised  the  cake  and  brown 
bread  and  the  quality  of  the  preserved  peaches, 
and  questioned  Miss  Hewson  as  to  the  social 
habits  of  the  young  people  of  the  place. 

When  the  meal  was  over  the  old  man  went 
into  the  next  room  to  inquire  into  his  wife's 
condition. 

"  Grumbling  as  usual,"  he  said  as  he  shambled 
out  again,  «and   struggling  mightily  for   my 
soul's  salvation,  as  if  I'm  not  as  good  as  the  best 
of  folks.     I  don't  set  up  to  be  one  of  the  meek 
saints,  no,  sir;  meekness  is  the  kind  of  thing 
that  makes  a  man  lie  down  and  lick  the  dust 
while  his  enemies  jump  on  him  with  both  feet. 
It's  the  other  way  with  me.     I  do  the  jumping, 
and  when  I  get  my  feet  on  a  man  he  knows  it. 
J  can  piake  him  writhe  in  his  misery  like ^" 


Ay  APOSTLE  OF  HATE.  ig 

"  Would  your  wife  care  to  talk  with  mo  ?  " 
asked  tI,o  minister,  tin.iclly  intonupting  l.im. 
Sometimes  when  one  is  i„  mental  distress  a 
word  of  prayer " 

"  She'll  not  see  you  to-night,  Parson,  though 
she  wante  to  badly  enough.      iVe  given  ifor 
ordei«  to  compose  her  mind   like   a  sensible 
woman  and  go  to  sleep.    In  the  morning  you 
n.ay  talk  to  her  if  you  like,  though  I  Luce 
that  men  of  your  cloth  don't  have  a  cheering 
effect  on  her       Kate,  go  to  your  n,other  and 
make  her  comfortable  for  the  night." 

The  girl  ro.se  promptly  and°lcft  the  room. 
Mr.  Ingram  had  a  sudden  sense  of  chill  and  on- 
pression  as  he  saw  her  go.  He  did  not  relisl^ 
the  p,.ospect  of  a  tSte^-tSte  with  his  host,  and 
had  It  n,  Ins  nnnd  to  say  that  he  was  tired  and 

settled  this  little  matter  to  suit  himself. 

"  rued  out,  Pai^on  ?     I  see  you   yawninir 
Never  mind,  you  may  sleep  all  moving.    Yof; 

e"L   niV" ''" '"°  ^'- «•    «y-'venoob. 
jection,  111  have  a  smoke  for  a  few  minutes. 

Ihere  are  some  books  on  the  table  there,  you 

may  find  one  to  interest  you.     When  I've  fin- 

.shed  my  pipe,  I'll  tell  you  something  of  my 

e:S«'''""'^^'"^'^'^''^^"  <'"-*'''' 
He  filled  his  pipe,  lighted  it,  and  smoked  fo,- 


14     SAINTS,  SIN.yEUSi  AND  QUEEIi  PEOPLE. 

some  (Inie  in  silence,  his  coujitenaiice  gradually 
as;muiino  a  lowering  and  crafty  expression,  in 
which  every  vest  -o  of  gruff  kind.inesa  was 
swallowed  up. 

The  minister  took  up  one  book  after  another, 
but  could  not  concentrate  liis  attention  on  any 
of  them. 

Finally' Mr.  Hewson  laid  down  his  pipe, 
crossed  his  legs,  and  sat  back  into  the  depths  of 
his  chair. 

"  EVer  hear  of  Dr.  Grayson  ?  "  ho  asked,  with 
a  suddenness  which  caused  the  other  to  start 
involuntarily,  before  he  replied  that,  to  the  best 
of  his  knowledge,  he  had  '  never  met  that  gentle- 
man or  heard  his  name.' 

"  Well,  sir,  he  wa.s  a  d n  villain !  " 

The  minister  sprang  from  his  seat  as  if  he 
had  received  a  smart  blow  in  the  region  of  his 
Iieart. 

"  My  brother,  you  forget  yourself,"  he  said, 
laying  a  hand  on  the  old  man's  arm.     « I  cannot  ' 
listen  to  such  words.     Consider,  I  beg  of  you, 
the  impropriety " 

"  Pooh,  man  !  Where  were  you  ri'md,  tliat 
you  can't  hear  a  littl-;  strong  languacr^  '  '^^'^  'ut 
jurtiping  out  of  your  boots?  You  u  Lnd  mat 
word  in  the  Bible  a  hundred  times,  and  you  read 
it  to  your  congregation  without  giving  or  taking 
offence.    Well,  well,  words  are  of  small  account  j 


AN  Al'o;  TLE  OF  n4TW, 


16 


they  can't  alter  facts,  nor  make  a  man  worse  or 
better.  But,  between  you  and  me,"  lie  bent 
forward  and  fixed  his  baleful,  glittering  eyes  on 
the  nunister,  "he  was  a  lying  scoundrel,  and  he 
de,  (.rved  to  have  his  life  turned  into  a  hell  on 
earth.  That's  what  happened  to  him.  Might 
as  well  try  to  stop  the  sun  in  its  course  as  try 
to  avert  the  revenge  of  a  Hewson." 

Mr.  Ingram  stood  up   and  said  nervously  • 
"If  you  will  excuse  me,  I  think  I  will  go  to  my 

room,  I  am  somewhat  fatigued  and " 

"  And  scared,  eh  ?  Not  used  to  the  talk  of  a 
man  who  is  honest  enough  to  call  a  spade  a 
spade,  and  a  liar  a  liar.  Sit  down,  man.  I 
asked  you  hero  on  pujpose  to  have  a  chat  with 
you.  We  don't  have  new  parsons  eveiy  Sunday 
in  the  year,  and  I  irke  your  quiet  way  of  listen- 
ing without  saying  much.  What  I've  got  to 
tell  is  a  true  story,  and  I  don't  think  it  will  do 
you  any  harm  to  hear  it." 

Mr.  Ingram  unwillingly  resigned  himself  to 
the  inevitable,  with  an  unspoken  prayer  in  his 
heart  that  the  man  before,  him  would  at  least 
have  enough  regard  for  the  clerical  sensitive- 
ness to  refrain  from  sacrilegious  exclamations. 

"Well,  to  go  backtothebeguuiing,Dr.  Gray- 
son attej.ded  my  father  in  his  last  illness.     That    • 
was  nearly  twc.ty  years  ago.     My  father  died. 
bhortly  afte^'  hp  was  buried  the  doctor  sent  i« 


16     SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QUEEIt  PEOPLE, 

his  bill  to  me.    It  was  about  fifty  dollars  lamer 
than    It  should  have   been  and  I  intended  to 
make  him  knock  something  off  it  before  I  paid 
It,  which   I  was  in   no   hurry   to   do.     I   was 
bothered  about  business  at  the   time,  and  he 
could  affojd  to  wait  for  his  money.     He  sent 
me  another  dun,  demanding  that  tl/e  amount-be 
paid  at  once  as  he  was  in  financial  difficulty 
It  cauglit  me  at  the  wrong  time  and  I  told  him 
that  he  Wasn't  the  only  man  in  financial  diffi- 
culty   and    he   could  wait,  or   do    the  other 
thing. 

"  Months  went  by  and  I  was  thinking  of  making 
some  settlement  with  him  when  I  got  a  com- 
munication from  Iiis  lawyef  informing  me  that 
the  doctor  was  entering  an  action,  suing  me 
for  the  money.  Well,  sir,  I  was  hot  over  it,  I 
can  tell  you;  all  the  Hewson  pride  and  spunk 
rose  up  in  arms,  and  I  was  ready  to  fight  till  I 
dropped  dead  if  necessary.     I  told  him  he  could 

sue  and  go  to  h ,but  he  wouldn't  get  a  d 

cent  out  of  me,  for  I  was  going  to  protest  Hut 
bill  and  make  some  revelations  into  the  bargain 
that  would  settle  him  for  a  long  time  to  come! 
He  and  my  fatlier  had  disagreed  about  some 
trifling  matter  a  few  days  before  the  end,  and 
I  had  overheard  the  doctor  retort  sharply  I 
put  two  and  two  together  as  lawyers  do  when 
they  make  out  a  case,  and  in  a  few  days  I  had 


A  N  APOSTLE  OF  HA  TE.  17 

sufficient  circumstantial  evidence   to  warrant 
me  m  accusing  the  doctor  of  murder." 

"  Oh,  this  is  terrible  !  "  interrupted  the 
pi^acher.  "  I  cannot  listen.  How  could  you  be 
so  vindictive,  so  cruel  and  wicked  !  You  could 
not  believe  that  lie  had  committed  the  act^" 

"No,  certainly  not,  and  I  knew  that  no  lurv 
would   bring  a   verdict   against  him.     But  it 
answered  my  purpose  to  throw  the  slur  of  sus- 
picion on  him.    That  will  do  more  to  break  a 
man  s  spirit  and  crush  the  hope  in  him,  than  if 
he  were  convicted  of  crime  and  made  to  suffer 
lor  It.     Yes,  sir,  it's  slow  torture.     I  wouldn't 
have  done  anything  to  injure  him  if  he  hadn't 
been  so  high-handed  and  uppish  and  circulated 
mean  reports  about  me  which  were   likely  to 
affect  my  credit.     But  when  I  saw  how  things 
wei^  going  I  set  my  teeth  and  said  to  myself. 
If  Its  a  quarrel  he  wants  he  will  get  more  than 
iie  expects,  for  a  He wson  never  fails  to  pay  debts 
of  that  kind  with  interest-exorbitant'interest 
I  openly  accused  him  of  the  murder  of  my 
father.      All   the    newspapers  got  hold   of  it 
and  there  was  a  tremendous  sensation.     I  ear- 
ned the  case  to  the  criminal  court.     The  Crown 
prosecuted,   so  it  didn't  cost  me  much.     The 

2trrr"  "''  ^«"^l"«iv-'  ^"t  it  was  suffi- 
cier  t  to  throw  reproach  on  the  character  of  the 
doctor,  and  shake  people's  fuith  in  him.  ...a 

2  "  7     •r-«\t 


18     SAIWTS,  SUViv^jrif^  ^,      * 

">y  father's  room  of .,  K  Z        "'  «''scovery  in 
«'e  doctor's  uZ  It  ^        "^  ™'"'='"«  ^-'th 
-agination,  ^ZlZ::^"'  ^'t^'  "P- 
Po.ao„  that  less  thau  a  Zo  "r'"'^''"'"^'^ 
a  man  outright.  ^  °'  "  would  till 

"  The  counsel  for  (ho  A^e 

a'g«mentthat  noZuZTZ""  ^"^  ^'"''"'J  '^e 
"nmistakable  proof  of  h"""  ^'"'"''"<«'ve  such 

^  wore  reasonable  to  .1  "*'  ""'' ''  w<">W 
h""  been  pu-pos";  pon^r /''','  "'^  "«'-" 
m  order  to  blaokmaiUh!7.      '"  "'*  "^dieine 

^"tthe\;i:nrt:d\^sr''''^^'^'''-''ff. 

doctor  twenty  thouLK  *  "'"'  "  "»«'  «'« 
««"•  Yes,  sirl  T^venl  «  "  '"  *^'''"'  •"•»- 
Peated  the  old  „,a„  wi?h  «  ""•'"r'  ''°"™'"  ''e- 
glee,  which  gave  ^"^""""'"'■Pl'ant,  malicious 

*3torti„„,rd^':S;iSe  features  a  horribt 
a  sweet  morsel  i„  hi,  mof  t    I     '^  ""  '^ '"  '>«'d 

"  That  was  sometl'l,?,.  ««»"»ued  : 

°^a'.undreda„:,1f;^,X,?l'''»-»bi., 
paid  bim  better  to  hav.  „  •!  ,'  ^'  '"""'d  have 
and  kept  a  civil  tonte  ;:;,'*"  "I  ^""venieuce  ' 

fpol.  never  grow  wisf^A:  ^J!^'  ,^"'  -™« 
h'3  property  to  rake  up  enoutb  ^'"  "''''"  "" 
>>'»  lawyers,  and  when  it   ".??    ?"'{  *"  ^ 

'"'  ""  over  he  came 


pl^ely  I    H.  business,  reputation,  and  .on^y 

"  His  health,  too,   had  suffered       Wp 
more  worried   on  his  wif.'.  ®   ^^^^ 

himself,  so  peop.:  i.  ^  Wn't'bl'""  '"' 
ned  more  than  three  yeJm  ZTt,  \  ?  T" 
troubles  dreadfully  to  Tal^  G  \  '^/' 

sense  enough  to  keep  out  nf'n.'^f"  '""'"'' 
sleeping  do^s  I.V   ,ff    ?,,        "^'  ""«'"  ""d  '«' 

do^.  VaCen^^ort'^f  ""'''"' 
neighbor's  house  without  "i*'/*^'  *"  " 
his  mean,  shabby  figure  skuTkW^  f  ^      T  "^ 

on  a  man,  I  take  it      Tf  l       t     )        «"«P^cion 
an  ounce  of  superfluous  flesh  on  him.  Tde- 


rlT.l 


i^O        SAINTS,    SWvPjtd     AXri.        . 

tested  the  sight  of  hiin  •  T 

w^ugtj  """"fS-^y""  tor  the  evilyou  have 

like  a  thi.«t  ;„..  XL''  f  7«  «"  "  ".a,. 
W-npI.,  but  it  had  „^sa«sfle/r  /  ""  "^ 
revenge.     The  reven  J  iMf  1   ^    '"'■'  ^°'' 

could  not  forego,  „r;„ttr",T.r"''"^' 
apolog.es  that  could  be  invented  I  H  T^'" 
had  gone  down  on  his  kneer^  r  '""  "^ 
have  forgiven  him."  *°  "^  ^  """"W  "ot 

the'":irte:rir"*^«'i'"''-.".«u™ured 
wh;?yhSi"::f~;'ow  it  was.  or 

he  stood  before  LaZr'       , '  '"""^  """  «« 
•  In  him,  knowinT'irl         *'"  ""'"'  '='"">&« 

SereSn:iT;r'^-^^^^^^^^^^^^ 

a  mm  aloud,  and  dragged  him  bodily 


111 


B  walked 
3et  him, 
ys  tuiji- 
auty  of 
tppetite. 
ickened 
street, 
lie  said 

u  have 

u  ever 
a  man 
311  my 
re  for 
ling  I 
raven 
'  man 
d  not 

lured 

s,  or 

tt  as 

mge 

)uld 

liim 

•uld 

lily 


An  APOSTLE  OF  ItATJE. 


^1 


f 


through  the  dirt  of  the  streets.  Not  because 
of  his  persistence  about  that  petty  account, 
that  was  a  trifle  not  wortli  mentioning,  but  it 
was  the  fact  that  he  had  set  himself  in  opposi- 
tion against  me,  and  that  by  his  manner  he  had 
dared  me  to  do  my  worst.  He  had  been  too 
proud  CO  abase  himself  before  a  Hewson,  and  he 
got  his  just  deserts. 

"  When  he  spoke  to  me  that  day  in  his  weak, 
suffering  voice,  looking  at  me  with  the  eyes  of 
a  woman  in  the  throes  of  childbirth,  all  the 
ferocity  of  my  nature  was  let  loose  like  a  cage 
full  of  wild  beasts,  and  I  turned  on  him  like  a 
tiger. 

"  *  You  sneaking  whelp,'  I  said  savagely,  '  I 
don't  care  for  your  forgiveness  nor  God's  either. 
I'm  not  done  with  you  yet.  I'll  follow  you  to 
Hell.'" 

"  Stop  I  "  said  the  preacher,  throwing  out  his 
liands  and  rising  unsteadily.  "I  can  hear  no 
more.  My  nerves  are  unstrung.  I  must  beg 
leave  to  retire." 

"Hold  on  a  minute,  Pai-son.  There  isn't 
much  more  to  tell,  but  I've  kept  the  best  for 
the  last.  I  made  inquiries  into  the  previous 
history  of  Doctor  Grayson  and  his  wife,  and 
accidentally  made  some  discoveries  that  were 
useful  to  me.  I  visited  the  place  where  they 
had  lived  before  coming  to  our  town,  and   I 


f 


22   SAtyrs,  stififEUt  itr^ 

learned  that  their  ch,l,l    »    i       , 
out  of  wedlock.    i.e  „1  J;;?'''^'-'  ^"^  bom 
till  the  younff  moth!.         ^  '^"'"'"'•■''^^Plaoe 
confinement"^  "other  was  recovering  from  her 

'•oped  to  live  a^"^;;/4r^^^^^^^ 
•«ppened,  supposin/the  r,  ^,  ,  ^''  "''^«'' 

the  wiser.  B„t  they  didn^t  .  "'""'^  ^  ""»« 
"bint,  of  runnin^'itt  alt "nlf  7'^- 
of  an  angry  Hfewson.      That  ,ff  '''"P* 

stock  in  tmde  for  me  it  i?  '^  ™''  ^'"^h 

again  and  Imadelreal  !  ,"'/  "''  "'  •"■«"'««» 
son,  feeling  l^^lTropS  f '^  ""r.  «™^- 
tion  to  the  mi-ifo-t  f  •*  disgraced  in  addi- 

^-bandXr^rdd :;  t  "'•n'r  "- 

made  her  half  as  miseiJ.u  fV         '  '"■•  ^  '""""'t 

her  life  went  o„t"ke  rtt  ,1^"^'  '"  '^'"''^ 
she  was  a  sensitive  !n  ^  "^  "  """die ; 

sand  in  her  and  cl^^  "'"""'•^'  '""d-'-t  any 

in.  her.  Cligt^S'l^"? '"  ^"""- 
hausted,and  he  ,W  i  *  '^  .  ''""  '""«  ex- 
slid  out  of  1  Avorid  •-      ^^  "'  '^"■^""■"^  «»d 

"Condem:St?''rr''{;-f,<'iesr? 
wore  for  escaping  me    'l    ,        v,  ''  ^""  "'« 

coward,  to  sneak  off  X.  the  r     '"  '"''"'""' 
-"•"otforhim.    xiKr-.-;^^ 


1 


i 


Al^  APOSfL^  OF  £tAm  23 

pleased  if  lie  had  lived  and  suffered,  knowing 
himself  to  be  completely  at  my  mercy." 
^    "  Where  is  tlie  little  girl  ?  "  asked  the  preacher 
in  a  dull,  mechanical  voice. 

"  Yes,  where  (8  she  ?  "  reiterated  the  old  man 
sliarply,  the  glitter  of  an  unquenched  malignity 
burning  more  fiercely  in  his  eyes.     "  Tliat  is  the 
question  I  should  like  to  have  answered.     No 
one  IS  more  interested  in  her  whereabouts  than 
I,  John  Hewson.     I  have  advertised  for  infor- 
mation of  one  Nellie  Grayson,  daughter  of  the 
ate  Doctor  Robert  Graysoii.     But  I  cannot  find 
her.     A  stranger  came  and  took  her  away  after 
her  father  died.     She  Avas  three  years  old  then, 
and  must  be  about  twenty-three  now  if  she  is 
living.     Ah  !    I  should  like   well   to   see   the 
young  woman,  illegitimate  child  of  the  most  con- 
temptible scoundrel  I  ever  knew;  my  enemy's 
daughter,  the  last  and  only  surviving  human 
being,  to  my  knowledge,  who  beai-s  his  name. 

*' I  hope  to  find  her  before  I  die,  and  when  I 
do  he  smacked  his  thin  lips  with  renewed  relish 
of  the  invisible  morsel, "  when  i  do,  God  help  her, 
she  11  not  have  her  sorrows  to  look  for.  I  tell 
you,  sire,  when  old  John  Hewson  is  laid  in  his 
grave,  he'll  have  had  the  consolation  of  knowing 
that  not  many  of  his  enemies  are  left  above 
ground  to  gloat  over  his  death!  I  drive  them 
all  there  ahead  of  me  with  f.lm  wh,v  ^f  u^^   „ 


I 


24     SAINTS,  Simsns  AXb  QUEER  PEOPLK 
The  young  minister  bowed  liis  pale  face  in  his 

mnc^^,d  trembled  in  agony  of  mind.    "Wh 
could  he  say  to  open  the  eyes  of  this  man's  un- 
de.-standn,g,  and  let  in  the  full  light  of  divine 

evel:.t.o„  upon  a  darkened  soul  which  had  ne^r 
warmed  to  a  glimmer  of  God's  truth'  " 

conditon,     he  sa.d  earnestly,  striving  to  over- 

I  cannot  .magmo^  any  right-minded  pereon  find- 
;ng  pleasure  m  the  deliberate  infliction  of  suifer- 
mg  upon  any  creature  however  bitter  an  enemy, 
iiut  the  punishments  you  mete  out  with  such 
avengeful  spirit  are  out  of  all  proportion  to 
their  causes,  and  therefore  the  more  deserving  of 
condemnation.    I  do  not  know  how  you  1„ 
justify  yourself  to  your  own  conscience;  if^ 
deed  you  have  any.    Such  a  eoui^e  as  you  have 
pui-sned  wouhl  naturally  stunt  and  benumb  yZ 
nioi^l  sensibilities,  so  that  in  a  short  time  your 
wr-ongKioing  would  give  you  no  discomfort." 

HO  ho!    So  you  are  launching  into  a  sermon 
rZ    Tf;:'''fT"'    You  can't  come  tC: 
like  water  off  a  duck's  back." 
"  The  thing  that  touches  me  most  keenly  and 

of  lehgion,  while  you  are  cherishing  this  sinful 
desire  for  revenge,  and  furthering  your  wicked 


An  apostle  of  Hate.  26 

purposes.     This  is  base  hypocrisy,  and  you  must 
know  it  to  be  so.     Creeds  and  dogmas  matter 
very  little,  but  the  spirit  of  religion  is  the  same 
all  the  world  over,  and  it  has  only  one  meaning, 
love  to  God  and  our  neighbor.     Hate,  for  any 
reason  whatever,  can  have  no  part  in  it.     It  is  ' 
a  noxious,  soul-destroying  root  of  evil ;  its  fruit 
IS  as  bitter  as  the  waters  of  Marah ;  and  the  man 
who  takes  it  on  his  lips,   till  habit  engendei-s 
a  morbid  appetite,  will  eat  it  to  his  own  eternal 
destruction. 

"  The  longer  I  live  the  more  I  am  convinced 
.  that  theological  doctrine  is  a  small  part  of  our  ' 
religion,  which,  when  simplified,  means  the  mind 
of  the  Master  reflected  in  Imman  lives— God 
breathing  in  us,  and  working  through  us.     But 
if  we  are  filled  with  malice   and   hatred,   our 
souls  are  as  barren  as  the  sun-parched  desert. 
God  himself  can  sow  no  good  seed  in  such  soil." 
The  minister  s  delicate,  clear-cut  face  glowed 
with   deep  feeling  as  he  spoke,  and   his   eyes 
flamed  into  a  sudden  beauty.     His  sligl.    igure   ' 
quivered  with  pent-up  emotion. 

"  My  friend,"  he  continued  even  more  gently, 
inclining  toward  the  ungainly  form  huddled  in 
the  chair,  with  head  dropping  forward  in  an 
attitude  which  might  signify  close  attention  or 
physical  drowsiness.  « You  are  an  old  man  ; 
almost  seventv,  I  should  sav.     A  f.  h^c^f  ,.o"  ^"-^ 


I 


So  KAmts.  smNBiis  and  uukki:  peoplb.  ^ 
only  a  few  yearn  to  live.  I„  the  ligl.t  „f  eter- 
n.ty  how  unuttembly  small  and  unworthy  the 
objects  for  which  you  have  striven  will  appea. 
God  ,s  ready  to  give  you  the  sweetening,  sin-C: 
■   IT"  ""'*«— ''y  "ote-t  off  i\l  Gorget 

Jf  you  only  knew  it,  and  learn  by  blessed  exne^ 
rience  that  true  relidou  ind  (,„„  i  ^ 

.  insepamble  ? "  ^  ''"P^""'** "'« 

^  The   old   man  gave  a    mirthless,   disdainful 

"  Don't  waste  that  fine  talk  on  me   Parxon 
You'll  need  it  for  Sabbath  services     Vr^  a 
hold  man  to  accuse  me  of  hypocrisy  and  every- 
thing  ese   hafs  wicked,  and  I  wouldn't  iK.vPex- 
peeted  .t  of  a  puling,  baby-faced  chap  likJycu 
B«    1 1   not  let  go  my  hold  of  the  church.   Z' 
^■>  I    Ihats  my  strong  weapon  of  torture,  for  I  ' 
can  disgrace  people  by   means  of  the  church 
quicker  than  any  other  way,  and  it'schea  " 
«.a„   legal  proceedings  in   court  of  h.w     Tl,e 
Graysons  are  not  the  only  enemies  I  have  had^ 
Bless  me, no.     Why!  Pardon  Ingram,  we  Inve 
a  record  in  this  place  that  can't  bf  equaled  ty 
w    re  ,n  the  province.     We  have  had  six  chuii. 
trials  in  our  own  litUe  Methodist  chapel  with  its 
n.embe,.hip  of  one  hundred,  and  I  wL  the  p r^  ! 

l^ei,sii,  I,  John  Hewson,  rough-and-ready  John, 


AN  APOSTLE  OF  HATE. 


27 


as  some  folks  call  me.  Well,  I  guess  I  am  rough, 
for  there's  one  thing  I  urn  always  ready  to  do, 
and  that  is  to  fight.  I  came  out  ahead  every 
time,  and  the  God-forsaken  sinners  got  their 
props  of  religion  knocked  from  under  them,  and 
had  to  get  out. 

"  IIo)  ho  I  I've  had  some  precious  victories  in 
my  time  I  I  can't  sleep  sometimes  for  remem- 
bering and  chuckling  over  them.  When  a  man 
finds  he  has  such  power  over  his  enemies,  -it 
gives  him  something  to  live  for;  it  makes  him 
wish  that  he  could  live,  to  be  as  old  as  Methu- 
selah." 

Tlie  minister  rose.  There  was  an  expression 
of  pain  on  his  pale  face,  as  he  walked  unsteadily 
to  the  door. 

"  Good-night,"  he  said,  not  looking  back,  "  I'll 
go  up  to  my  room." 

"  Hold  on,  I'll  show  you  the  way,"  said  the 
old  man,  stumbling  to  his  feet.  "But  we 
haven't  had  the  customary  word  of  prayer  before 
retiring,"  he  added  with  a  leer. 

"  No,  I  do  not  feel  that  it  would  be  in  keeping 
with  our, — that  is,  with  your,  conversation." 

"  Ho,  ho  !  Setting  yourself  against  a  Hewson, 
eh  ?     Beware,  Parson  !     LI  any  a  man  has  suffered 
at  my  hands  for  as  small  an  offence  as  that. 
Here's  your  lamp  and  there's  your  room.     Now  • 
scramble  to  your  perqU  an4  sleep  the  sleep  of  a 


■      pious,  wliining  fool  wlio  dn^Mn'f  i 

keep  l,i,  se„„:„,  to  h  LeUt"l    r-'  *"?"«'"° 
tl.ein.     You're  vonn  J     f       i     "^  "*  "■"''«''  ^w 

called  1,X-  '"   ""^  ''*'>■■'""« 

W:/S';;,:-:;r^---^ou  never 
;'Qmtesu,<-wa«  the  weary  response. 

"SnCt."  ""^'^"^'■^"'"^'^^" 
M:7:^S1'nf'•  ^ -"'-''»'« -re. 

rnnot;,o:%'';riirt!u''';''^ 

X^tt,;:"'"^"'^''^""^^-o^Vet 

Mr.  Ingram  did  not  sleep  well  thaf  ..;  7  .  1 
tossed  upon  his  hprl  in  o      ^',    ^^^  ^"^*^  "^g^it,  he 

"^i''^::rs:  :::;FK~'t'?■ 
^         nve.     He  talked  and  prayed  with  her. 


4 


EOPLE. 

3nough  to 
HHked  for 
•w,  jou'Il 

fter  clos- 
•Jitl  bceji 
lianibled 
kej-hole 

►u  never 


•e  sure, 
ul  her. 
f  have 
e  face 

:ht,  he 
I  state 
host's 
-n   by 
isery. 
y  tlie 
'  had 
1  her 
nany 
her, 


AN  APOSTLE  OF  HATE. 


29 


but  there  was  little  he  could  do  to  alleviate  her 
mental  distress.  She  was  a  good  woiiiai),  of 
tender  heart  and  simple  faitli,  and  forlierself  slio 
liad  no  fears  as  she  neared  tlie  threshold  of  tlie 
unknown.  Iler  one  cry  was  that  she  might  die 
happy  ill  tiio  assurance  that  her  husband  was  a 
clianged  man,  released  from  the  bondage  of  his 
evil  ways.  But  the  minister  dared  lu-^t  encour- 
age tliis  hope,  the  most  he  could  do  was  to  rejul 
comforting  passages  from  the  Word  which  con- 
tained many  sweet  promises  respecting  tlie 
prayers  of  the  righteous. 

When  he  said  good-bye  to  Mr.  Ilewson  at  the 
station  as  the  train  steamed  up  to  the  platform, 
the  old  man  gave  him  a  gruff  invitation  to  come 
again  and  spend  a  day  or  night  with  him  "if  he 
had  no  objection  to  jilain  fare  and  plain  talk." 
But  the  minister  had  no  tliought  of  accepting. 
He  fervently  hoped  that  he  would  never  again 
lay  eyes  on  rough-and-ready  John  Ilewson,  un- 
less some  miraculous  power  interposed  to  pull 
him  up  short  in  his  course  of  iniquity,  and  drive 
him  to  the  foot  of  the  Cross. 


so 


"'""■•  ^^^^-*^-^-....«.w.. 


CHAPTEK  ir. 


"<i«t,.e«»,  sn,ili,  /::l:f,  !' '-!'"  «-  vmage  post- 
'""I  given  ],er  til  In      ^        <'^Po<=taut  face, 

As  «I,e  turned  / "to  T  f  ""''""'"'  '"■""'• 
"'••"■'I.  sI,o  clipped  tL.r"''"'"'^'' ''^'' ''<''•>- 
pocket,  and  op  „,."  L^T''  """'^''  '"'«  ''« 
itassLe  walked  ""*»"'"■  P'Weeded  to  read 

Si'e  was  a  tall,  slight  girl    hi,  „,  , 
featmc,  with  a  liquid^eved    „  ^'"™  """^ 

^vliiel.  shone  a  trustful  I  i     f """"''  *»««  from 
Her  „,other,  a  S  L'  "'^'"''''  ""«'»''■>*  soul. 
-0"...  to  s«pp::!:;;;S';";-;»;>e  earned 
Slie  was  of  a  sininle  r„t.-,  •   '^  '"'"='"»?  school. 
»«mate  friends  ^^i^^ZtTi""''  '"'"  '^- 
-a«  contentedand  inte.I  ed   '  f,       "'  """^'"^ 
"seful  occupations  wh  ch  chi"    ll  '"""^  ^"'''"• 
Of  late  a  wonderful  t.  '" '""'  ""ention. 

"-  quiet  life,  Eet^'TthTt  1  "'""''  '"'« 
"ew  possibilities  tlmt  .f  T  ,  '"''''  "•'"l"'  of 
to  express  the     in^,  t  'l  "r^f  '"  ^^'>-" 

The  summer  lanlcape  ;u;'r"f ''.''■• '>-■•'• 

"f^e,  Hitli  Its  openuig buds 


'EOPLs:, 


t 


^ly  even- 
ge  post- 
Ill  t  face, 
J  in  the 
fi  knew 
«  hand. 
I  Jiome- 
to  Jier 
to  lead 

n  and 

3  from 

soul. 

arjied 
:hool. 
few 
tshe 
njill, 
tion. 
into 
liof 
licli 
art. 
lids 


AN  APOSTLE  OF  HATE. 


31 


and  fresh  green  foliage,  was  not  more  significant 
of  hope  and  promise,  than  were  the  thoughts  of 
this  maiden  as  ahe  read  lier  lover's  letter ;  while 
Btray  breezes  stirred  her  muslin  gown,,  and  trifled 
with  the  curls  of  brown  hair  whicli  lay  on  her 
brow. 

*'  Dearest  Helen  : 

*'  This  has  been  a  long,  lonely  week,  and  many 
times  I  have  longed  for  the  sound  of  my  sweet- 
heart's voice,  with  the  strengthening  touch  of  her 
hand   in  mine.     In   one  sense   you  are  always 
with  me.     I  am  conscious  of  your  spiritual  pres- 
ence wherever  I  go,  for  distance  cannot  separate 
us  or  weaken  the  bond  that  unites  us.     Our  ■ 
Imman  hejirts  pent  up  in  these  mortal  bodies 
chafe  against  the  restrictions  of  time  and  circum- 
stance, and  ciy  out  for  the  solace  of  a  tenderness 
that  can  be  felt  not  only  in  the  hidden  springs 
of  being,  but  in  every  exulting  fibre  of  physical 
consciousness. 

"  I  love  the  work  of  my  blessed  Master,  and  I 
rejoice  more  and  more  that  He  sees  fit  to  use 
me  in  His  service ;  no  other  calling  would  be  as 
congenial  and  acceptable  to  me.  But  I  have 
sometimes  thought  that  you  have  not  fully  con- 
sidered the  hardships  of  a  minister's  wife,  es- 
pecially in  this  country  where  salaries  are  small 
and  the  parsonages  dingj  ^n(|  iBcouvenient.    If 


32     SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE.  ' 

your  lover  was  so  fortunate  as  to  be  counted 
among  the  illustrious  minority  of  the  clerical 
brethren,  these  things  would  be  different.     We 
would  be  invited  to  the  big  churclies,  and  con- 
gregations  would  vie  with  one  another  to  see 
which  could  bid  the  highest  for  liini.     But  as 
he  IS  only  a  timid  fledgling,  the  conference  sends 
him  to  backwoods  missions  where  he  need  not 
be  afraid  of  the  sound  of  his  own  voice,  and 
where  he  can  grow  big  and  strong  on  the  stimu- 
lus  of  adversity. 

"  However,  I  know  that  you  are  a  brave,  noble 
little  woman,  my  Helen,  and  you  have  learned 
that  true  happiness  does  not  consist  in,  or  depend 
upon,  the  measure  of  our  earthly  possessions. 

"  As  long  as  Ave  have  each  other,  dearest,  and 
that  unswerving  trust  in  our  heavenly  Father»s 
dealmgs  which  is  tlie  essence  of  contentment, 
what  more  need  we  desire  ?     Our  liome,  though 
humble,  shall  be  a  little  heaven  on  earth,  made 
beautiful  by  unselfish  love.     I  am  counting  the 
weeks  as  they  go  by;  did  time  ever  pass  so 
slowly?    In  two  months  we  shall  be  married, 
and  I  shall  bring  my  wife   liome.    Then  life 
will  begin  for  us  in  earnest.     I  tliink  a  man  is 
never  quite  complete,  nor  fully  equipped  for 
life  s  battles,  till  he   is  united  to  his  kindred 
soul,  and  has  engrafted  into  his  own  character 
somcihing  of  the  finer  womanly  qualities  of  hig 


AN  APOSTLE  OF  HATE. 


33 


helpmate.     As  I  take  my  long  drives  into  the 
country,  rejoicing  in  the  beauties  of  nature,  the 
thought  of  you  pervades  all  other  thoughts,  and 
I  am  as  hopeful  and  exultant  as  a  boy,  as  I  niakfj 
plans  for  our  future.     May  God's  richest  bless- 
ings rest   upon   you,  His  child,  and   may  tlje 
anticipation  which  I  ]io\v  enjoy,   be  only   the 
foretaste  of  a  happiness  deep  and  abiding,  spring- 
ing from  tlie  exhaustless  source  of  all  true  joy, 
and   reacliing   out    into   an   endless    Eternity. 
Write  to  me  often,  dearest  Helen,  your  bright, 
girlish  letters  are  a  Avonderful  comfort  and  in- 
spiration.    Remember  that  I  am  interested   in 
everytliing  which  affects  your  welfare  in  the 
slightest  degree. 

"  Your  faithful  lover, 

"  Robert  Ingram." 

Tl)e  girl  kissed  the  letter  once,  twice,  thrice, 
passionately,  then  blushed  and  looked  around  in 
shy  apprehension  of  being  observed.  But  the 
narrow,  winding  path  led  into  the  heart  of  a  shad- 
owy wood,  where  everything  was  still  save  the 
murmuring  pines  and  an  occasional  rustle  among 
the  underbrush,  and  there  were  no  liuman  eyes  to 
witness  the  impulsive  demonstratioji. 
^  Several  gophers  darted  nimbly  across  her  path- 
way, and  a  white  rabbit  sat  back  on  its  hind 
legs  looking  at  her  very  wisely.   Vistas  of  silence 


34     SAmrs;  SINNERS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

toucliecl  into  mellow  beauty  by  the  last  rays  of 
the  sun,  opened  into  the  innermost  recesses  of 
twining  green  labyrinths.  Helen  was  in  close 
sympathy  with  nature's  subtlest  moods  and 
inscrutable  mysteries. 

The  trembling  leaves,  gnarled  tree  trunks, 
twisted  boughs  and  impressive  stillness,  added 
a  touch  of  sublime  exaltation  to  her  glow  of  ten- 
derness, and  snatches  of  a  song  rose  to  her  lips. 
.  She  had  a'  fresh,  sweet  voice,  and  sang  with 
as  little  effort  and  self-consciousness  as  the  birds 
that  paused  in  their  warblings  to  listen  to  her. 

*'  Love  is  a  fairy  most  winsome  and  coy, 

Who  cares  not  to  dally  or  mope  ; 
Her  luscious  lips  are  the  gate  of  joy, 

Her  eyes  are  the  skies  of  hope  ; 
Her  step  is  fleet  as  the  wings  of  dawn, 

Her  arms  are  pillows  for  pain  ; 
Her  voice  is  music's  most  sacred  shrine. 

Her  heart  is  life's  sheltered  domain. 
She  flits  on  the  wind  with  outstretched  arms. 

Her  face  in  strange  radiance  glowing, 
As  she  spreads  the  net  of  her  subtle  charms 

With  a  smile  full  tender  and  knowing  ; 
Sweetly  she  sings  as  she  weaves  her  spell. 

And  this  is  the  song  she  sings  so  well : 
'  More  beauteous  than  Fame,  'tis  my  mission  to  bless ; 
There  is  bliss  in  my  name,  in  my  breath  a  caress  ; 
Oh,  happy  are  they  who  dispute  not  my  sway, 
For  I  live  when  Time's   footsteps  have  long  passed 


away, 


In  a  few  minutes  she  emerged  into  the  open 


"EOPLE. 

ist  rays  of 
ecesses  of 
s  ill  close 
loods   and 

e  trunks, 
3SS,  added 
ow  of  ten- 

lier  lips, 
ang  with 

the  birds 
1  to  her. 


An  APOSTLi^  OP  HATS. 


85 


s, 


o  bless ; 
ress  ; 

Qg  passed 
lie  open 


prairie  and  entered  a  small  frame  house,  covered 
with  creeping  vines,  which  stood  close  to  tlie 
road.  A  motherly-looking  woman  was  bustling 
around  the  room,  setting  the  table  and  preparing 
tea. 

"  Just  in  time,  dear,"  she  said  clieerily ;  "  have 
you  had  a  pleasant  walk?  And  Avere  the 
school-children  less  troublesome  t'o-day?" 

"  Yes,  mother,  it  lias  been  a  delightful  day 
altogether,  and  the  best  of  it  has  come  last." 
She  laid  her  hat  and  gloves  away  in  their  ac- 
customed places,  in  the  chamber  adjoining  the 
outer  room.  When  she  came  out  she  had  donned 
a  white  apron. 

'^Sit  down  and  rest,"  said  Mrs.  Leslie, 
"there's  nothing  more  to  do.  How  well  you 
look,  Helen.  That  pink  color  in  your  cheeks  is 
becoming.  Well,  what  is  it  that  has  come  last  ? 
Oil,  I  know.  A  letter  from  that  pale-faced 
preacher  beau  of  yours.  He  must  be  neglecting 
all  the  saints  and  sinners  of  his  congregation 
for  the  sake  of  making  himself  chatty  to  you. 
How  can  he  find  time  to  write  sermons  when 
his  head  is  so  full  of  love-making  ?  " 

"  Don't  make  fun  of  my  boj^"  returned  the 
girl  with  shy  pleasantry.  "  If  he  is  pale  it  is 
because  he  is  always  too  busy  to  think  of  him- 
self, and  needs' somebody  to  take  care  of  him." 

'  Oh.  he  s  a  fino    smppimpn    imd    ^^^    v«i.>.4^-^i,« 


S6    sAii^Ts,  sm^^ns  Am  <in^s  people. 

Keveience,  for  the  best  of  men  are  ooor,  soft 
unthinking  creatures  when  they're  'in  C" 
No.  that  flighty  Robert  Ing..,„  iaates  en     ^i 

th     in,!"^'^,:'  "'"  '""""     ^'-'  ''«  does,  and 
the  t.me  he  takes  to  wite  letb;,«  might  be  more 

regetables.  You  can't  live  on  love  and  the 
So„ptu,.s,ev.nifyouare  two  of  the  small! 
eatera  I  ever  saw.  But  these  preachers  pride 
themselves  m  being  like  the  lilL  of  thefleU^ 
and  'takmg  no  thought.'  It's  an  excuse  fo^ 
their  sliiftlessness." 

The  good  woman's  moutli  lost  none  of  its 
ge  ml  curves  as  she  talked,  and,  in  spite  of  her 
ramery  .t  w<.s  evident  that  she  was  well  plea  ed 
with  her  daughter's  chosen  husband,  and  fou.^ 
a  wholesome  satisfaction  in  the  prospect  of  he 
comnig  his  mothei-in-law. 

They  3.-11  down  at  the  table  and  Helen  poured 
«^  tea  while  M..  Leslie  served  the  eustaS 
jelly.  It  was  a  simple,  frugal  meal,  but  the 
viands  were  well  eooked  and  appeti;ing  tt 
napery  was  spotlessly  white,  and  the  lampligh; 
threw  a  cheerful  glow  over  the  hnm»  ,.;  P"S''' 
WliAn  *!,„        1  liome-like  scene. 

When  the  meal  was  cleared  away,  the  iri,l 
brought  out  her  books  to  prepare  for  thrmo 
row^'s  stuaies,  and  when  she  felt  in  her  pocket 


AN  APOSTLE  OP  IIAT^. 


87 


for  a  lead  pencil,  her  fingers  came  in  contact 
with  the  unopened  letter  which  she  had  for- 
gotten  in  the  g^ow  of  excitement  and  pleasure 
called  forth  by  her  lover's  words.  It  was  an 
almost  illegible  scrawl  and  bore  the  postmark 
of  Birtle. 

"  I  saw  you  at  the  station  as  I  was  going 
through  to  the  city.  Your  face  looked  familiar. 
I  asked  your  name,  and  made  enquiries.  Your 
real  name  is  Helen  Grayson,  and  the  woman 
who  adopted  you  is  a  cousin  of  your  mother. 
You  are  an  illegitimate  child,  and  your  father 
and  mother  paid  the  penalty  of  their  crimes  by 
dying  in  poverty  and  disgrace.  Your  father 
was  tried  for  murder,  but  managed  to  cheat  the 
gallows.  I  learn  that  you  are  engaged  to  a 
respectable  young  preacher  who  is  a  friend  of 
mine.  The  marriage  must  not  take  place.  He 
must  not  be  allowed  to  mate  with  such  as  you. 
I  have  proofs  of  all  I  have  written  and  will 
produce  them  if  necessary. 

"  tfoHN  Hewson." 


The  girl  read  the  letter  twice,  slowly  and  pain- 
fully, trying  to  understand  the  meaning  of  the 
strange  words.  It  did  not  seem  possible  that 
they  could  have  been  addressed  to  hir.     Then 


Tl.e  paper  fluttered  ?,     ''""■^""''^en  creature, 
-d  W  head  fXS  ''-•  "^''-less  finge. 

"  What  is  it,  Helen  ?  "  «^  i  •       , 
h^rying  to  her  i'    .f^.f'™''  Mrs.  Leslie 
news?"  ^^"^'e   you  had   bad 

Then  her  eye  fell  on  the  letter. 

himself.    Novdo''  If  ^""'^'"'"^^^  "«  Satan 

'^-^  you,  thll.^rtf.'rrt^."'^  •'""'' 
andgood  as  a  babv  a„d  „.  "^  mnocent 

a  finger  to  harm  hf^  ^'dr''  "l"'™''  "^  ^^^^ 
riage  either."  '    ^  '"  "'*"  ' «'»?  «>e  mar- 

-P^tXit''-- other  sounder 
ma:Xrng"a:;S>f  «-  -"otherlywo. 

"Nobody'oaf  tc  y:'u-:™  "'■"""'  "^^• 

Robert,  aud  we'll  staL  by  J.  "  '  ^"'  '""  '"'"•* 

watzrLT::,«f-^'i^ti„g 

upon  the  face  above  ZT  ^"'""^  "PP^"' 

A  -^eleTti:;"!  ll  -^  "Ti  ^"'^^- 
waited  i„  dread  for  ;raCwt:rtr\rtit 


AN  APOSTLJS  OP  HATH. 


8d 


she  felt  that  the  confirmation  of  her  worst  fears 
would  be  less  painful  than  suspense. 

Mrs.  Leslie's  large,  amiable  features  contracted 
sharply  with  an  expression  of  mingled  pity  and 
compunctio  \.  She  was  naturally  a  truthful 
Avoman,and  the  least  prevarication  or  subterfuge 
was  abliorrent  to  her.  Yet  she  could  not  easily 
bring  herself  to  the  candid  performance  of  the 
task  so  suddenly  imposed  on  her.  She  felt  her- 
self growing  nervous  under  that  strained  pa- 
thetic  gaze,  and  her  principles  of  veracity  began 
to  waver  uncomfortably. 

"  I'll  tell  you  about  it  by  and  by,  dear,"  she 
said  soothingly.  "  Some  things  are  not  as  bad 
as  they  seem."  She  would  have  stopped  there, 
but  the  girl's  compelling  glance  forced  her  to 
go  on. 

"  Perhaps  I  ought  to  have  told  you  tlie  rights 
of  the  matter,  and  explained  that  I  wasn't  your 
real  mother,  but  there  didn't  seem  any  necessity 
for  it,  and  somehow  I  hadn't  the  heart  to  lay 
bare  the  troubles  and  misfortunes  that  drove 
your  parents  to  their  grave.  It  isn't  well  to 
cloud  the  sunshine  of  young  lives  with  sad 
stories  of  people  that  are  dead  and  gone,  and 
a  past  that  can  neither  be  helped  nor  cured." 

"  Then  it  is  true  ?  "  said  Helen,  her  face  rigid 
and  tearless. 


*-vt*i.ivy,  viwxi  V  iOOiv  Hli.U  Hint  i 


exciaimea  Mi's. 


I 


about:  "L^ii  ™;i""  L" '^"^- 

g-ning  the  faculty  of  apeeehLo/f"''^-'" 
-me  logical  connection  offd'as  '"™'"^ 

"  Beheve  nothing  but  what  is  ™o,1      tk 
rna^  mistakes  lilce  other  people  bSril  Jev:r 
think  they  planned  to  do  wrong.     Your  f  thl 

t  n  ll"-'^  •■'"quitted,  but  the  disgmce  of  i/ 
killed  him.-    Murder  indeed '     H^  !f !? 
tender-hearted  doctor  I  :::j,r''^^'^\7f 
your  coming  before  your  lawfu     L/.f. 

unfortunater  I'll  admit     vl  '  *'"  """ 

way.  ^<'"  *««  "  "-as  this 

I.n.'l'  V'l  ''*'"  ™'  "='  f"''  *«  maniage,  but  it 
l.ad  to  be  postponed  on  account  of  your  gi^li 


AN  APOSTLE  OF  HATE.  4\ 

mother's  death,  your  mother's  mother,  my  clear. 
Then  your  father  took  ill  of  a  fever  and  was 
sent  to  the  hospital,  and  lingered  there  i^r  a  long 
time  between  life  and  death.  You  were  born 
about  the  time  of  his  recovery.  Wlien  he  heard 
about  it  you  could  have  knocked  him  down  with 
a  feather.  The  marriage  took  place  soon  after, 
and  your  parents  lived  together  happily  till  your 
father  chanced  to  cross  the  temper  of  that  old— 
that  fiend  who  hounded  him  to  death." 

The  girl  did  not  hear  all  the  details  of  the 
narrative  which  Mrs.  Leslie  made  as  lengthy  as 
possible  in  order  to  divert  attention  from  the 
pith  and  substance  of  it.  Her  curiosity  was 
satisfied  on  the  one  point  which  alone  concerned 
her,  and  the  sickening  suspense  had  given  place 
to  a  deadly  certainty.  What  mattered  to  her 
the  motives  and  accidental  circumstances  which 
surrounded  her  birth,  they  could  not  alter  facts 
or  clothe  disgrace  with  even  a  semblance  of  re- 
spectability. 

The  one  fatal  conclusion  forced  itself  on  her 
mind,  <'I  have  no  lawful  claim  on  life.  I  am 
the  offspring  of  shame  and  folly.  I  ought  not 
to  exist."  Every  sensitive  fibre  of  her  nature 
tingled  and  smarted  with  the  pain  of  it ;  she 
could  not  suppress  it  or  reason  against  it,  she 
had  no  logic  of  worldly  wisdom  and  human  ex- 
perience at  her  command  to  fortifv  her  ae-ainst. 

57    -     


'.'4 


its  sudden  attack,  and  it  mastered  her  Sl>« 
knew  tl.a  something  preeious  had  go  ^  W 
iier  never  to  Iff  urn      tk     i  6""«  noni 

ifeiirness    and    tlie    earth    its   beautv       ^h^ 
thought  of  Rnhpif    n,  I   7  "i-fiuty.      {^he 

flasiidacr„sX:LTf:;.rtr.''r 

«.>d  added  to  her  misery  '  """"'«'■ 

room,  a„d^I:Lru:e^^  '"""'"■'" ''°''«''- 

ni;! :  "^rcr-  «■■« "«"  "-patched 

come  by  the  Ixt  wf  T/'''"f ''"^  '"'"  *" 
to  the  house  and\vaite"i  It  "  T'"  '^^"'^ 
and  if  the  message  found  U>1  Tt  In"^  ',  °  "'°*' 
«mve  before  midniirht     If  ,™  ''^  ''°°''' 

manner,  then  ao-i ;  n  f  i,^  ,    V      ^  ^'  ^ ^s^^ess 

and  eea;ed  ZS.t Cnl't  r '  ""'''"'•'• 
moment  later.  ^         ""^   '''"^"'cd  » 

"Poor  child!"  murmured  Mr«.  Leslie.    "It's 


AN  APOSTLE  OF  HATE. 


48 


her  first  trouble,  mid  I  don't  doubt  that  it's  lier 
worst.  I  wisii  I  knew  how  to  comfoit  lier. 
She  lias  as  good  a  light  to  hold  up  her  head  as 
the  proudest  lady  iu  the  land.  I  don't  see  why 
she  should  let  this  knowledge  erush  all  the 
hope  and  spirit  out  of  her  as  if  it  was  part  of 
her  doing,  liut  Knbert  Ingram  is  a  man  of 
taet  and  wisdom,  he  has  the  right  words  for 
what  he  feels,  and  he  will  be  able  to  cheer  and 
comfort  her." 

He  came  at  last.  She  heard  the  click  of  the 
gate  and  his  quick  stej)  on  the  gravel  patli. 
The  next  instant  he  was  in  the  room.  He 
looked  anxious  and  haggard. 

"  Is  she  ill  ?  "  he  asked,  breathing  }  d  from 
the  effects  of  liis  unusual  speed.  He  had 
covered  most  of  tho  di.  «ance  from  the  station 
at  a  running  pacv .  *'  Your  message  gave  me  a 
great  shock." 

"  She  is  not  ill  physically,  at  .east  not  moie 
than  you  would  expect,  but  we  are  in  trouble, 
and  I  thought  it  was  best  to  send  for  you."  She 
led  tho  way  into  the  little  parlor,  which  was 
seldom  used,  and  very  quietly,  in  a  low  voice, 
told  him  what  had  transpired.' 

"  My  poor  darling  !  "  he  exclaimed  in  lender- 
est  pity.  "  I  must  see  her  at  once.  Has  she 
so  little  confidence  in  me  as  to  think  that  I 
could  change  towards  Iier   because  of  these 


44     SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

things?  lam  more  eager  tlian  ever  to  make 
her  my  wife,  so  that  I  may  have  tlie  right  to 
protect  her  against  insult  and  injury.  We 
must  be  married  immediately,  to-morrow,  if 
possible." 

"I  think  likely  Helen  has  dropped  asleep," 
said  Mrs.  Leslie.  "  I  haven't  heard  any  sound 
in  her  room  for  several  minutes,  but  I'll  so  and 
see."  ^ 

Suddenly  a  startled  cry  resounded  through 
the  house.  Mr.  Ingram  sprang  from  his  chair, 
rushed  through  the  narrow  passage  into  the 
dinmg-room,  and  from  there  to  the  bedroom. 
A  strange,  sickening  odor  was  in  the  air.  Mrs 
Leslie  was  leaning  over  the  prostrate  figure  on 
the  bed.  * 

"Oh,  Robert!  She  has  taken  something. 
What  shall  we  do?  "she  exclaimed,  wringing 
her  hands.  °    ^ 

Then,  as  she  moved  back,  he  caught  siglit  of 
the  girl's  white,  distorted   face,  the  half-open 
glaring  eyes,  wide  and  dark  with  the  agony  of 
an  awful  ^consciousness,  the   rigid  limbs,   the 
helpless  struggle  to  ward  off  approaching  death 
long  enough  for  a   last  effort    of  intelligent 
Si3eech.      At    a    bound  he  reached    her.     He 
pressed  his  warm  lips  to  hers,  he  entreated  her 
by  every  endearing  name  that  distracted  love' 
cau  invent,  to  come  back  to  him,  to  happiness, 


AN  APOSTLE  OF  HATE. 


45 


if 


to  life,  but  even  as  he  spoke,  he  knew  that  she 
was  dying. 

"  Helen,  dearest,  speak  !  "  he  implored. 

Her  stiff  lips  moved,  and  he  bent  lower  to 
listen. 

"  I  could  not — bear — the  pain — of  knowing 
that  I — I — "  she  wiiispered  inco]ierently,a  sharp 
spasm  sending  a  quiver  over  her  features.  "  It 
burned  into  my  brain,  and  I — I — ask  God  to — 
to  forgive  me,  Robert." 

The  glazing  eyes  over  which  the  shadow  of 
an  invisible  Hand  seemed  to  be  resting,  fixed 
themselves  on  his  face  with  a  look  of  unutterable 
love,  remorse,  and  sorrow.  A  convulsive  sliudder 
passed  over  her,  then  slie  stiffened  suddenly  and 
he  held  in  liis  arms  a  corpse. 

The  next  morning,  while  that  silent  awe 
which  is  the  atmosphere  of  death  pervaded 
the  house,  Mrs.  Leslie  paused  in  her  soundless 
weeping  to  give  expression  to  the  thought 
which  was  continually  recurring  to  her  mind 
with  haunting  pei-sistency. 

"  I  wish  that  man  could  be  brought  here  to 
see  his  wicked  work,"  slie  said  in  a  passionate 
undertone.  "  It  would  rob  him  of  his  taste  for 
revenge  to  see  her  so  young,  so  lovely  " — sobs 
choked  her  utterance. 

"  He  shall  come,"  returned  Robert  Ingram, 
with  an  air  of  sad,  quiet  determination.    "  He 


III 


V>U 


1,1  ^ 

i" 
i 

liii 


46     SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

shall  Stand  by  her  coffin  and  look  on  her,  and 
say  to  himself,  This  is  my  doing.  I  have 
wired  him  to  be  liere  to-night." 

A  few  hours  later  John  Ilewson  stepped  from 
the  ears  to  the  depot  platform  with  an  eager 
alert  manner,  which  in  a  man  of  younger  years 
would  have  been  decidedly  jaunty.  He  still 
shambled,  and  his  shaggy  head  lopped  forward 
somewhat,  but  there  was  a  new  vim  in  his 
clumsy  gait,  and  in  his  heavy  features  the 
brightening  effect  of  an  absorbing  purpose. 

"  Ho,  lio  !  Parson  !  "  he  exclaimed  in  a  jocular 
voice  as  Mr.  Ingram  stepped  up  to  him.     «  So 
we  meet  again,  eli  ?    Strange  how  things  come 
about  when  we   least  expect  it.     '  Everything 
comes  to  him  who  waits,'  that's  true,  isn't  it  ? 
Of  course  it  is  !     You'll  not  shake  hands,  eh  ? 
Well,  perhaps  that's  natural.     I  suppose  you're 
cut  up  a  little  because  I've  spoiled  your  chances 
with  Grayson's  daughter.     I  call  tliat  deuced   • 
ungrateful.  Parson.     You  ought  to  be  thankful 
to  me  for  preventing  an  alliance  like  that." 

The  minister  scarcely  spoke  after  the  first 
cold  greeting.  They  walked  slowly  through 
the  silent  streets  in  the  deepening  twilight,  and 
both  of  them  remembered  a  similar  walk  upon 
the  occasion  of  their  first  meeting.  The  old 
man's  triumph  was  slightly  chilled  by  the  im- 
passive demeanor  of  Mr.  Ingram,  from  whom  he 


AN  APOSTLE  OF  HATE, 


47 


rom 


had  naturally  expected  a  tirade  of  protest,  de- 
nunciation and  remonstrance.  But  he  assured 
himself  that  this  would  come  later.  The  Par- 
son was  not  a  man  to  treat  so  important  a  matter 
as  lightly  as  his  present  cool,  self-contained 
manner  would  seem  to  indicate. 

"  I've  brought  some  documents  in  my  valise 
which  will  prove  the  truth  of  my  statements, 
if  any  proof  is  necessary,  to  back  up  the 
word  of  rough-and-ready  John  Hewson,  who 
was  never  known  to  be  untruthful  by  word 
ofmouM?  though  he  has  been  obliged,  in  the 
interf  f  justice,  to  do  some  sharp  double-deal- 
ing, ill  his  time.  I  suppose  that's  why  you  sent 
for  me,  eh.  Parson  ?  To  have  some  substantial 
proof  to  show  to  the  young  woman." 

Mr.  Ingram  made  no  reply. 

"  Mark  my  words,  Parson,  I'm  not  going  to 
spare  her.  It  has  been  the  aim  of  my  life  for 
yeai-s  to  find  lier  and  make  her  suffer,  and  it  will 
be  a  supreme  moment  for  me  when  we  stand 
face  to  face  and  I  tell  her  again  what  I  wrote 
in  that  letter.  Ah,  I'll  tell  it  in  such  a  way 
that  it  will  cut  her  to  the  quick.  Yes,  sire,  you 
must  leave  it  all  to  me,  Pareon !  I  don't  want 
any  meddling  or  molly-coddling  from  you." 

Still  the  minister  was  silent,  and  the  old  man, 
after  several  vain  attempts  to  beguile  him  into 

nnrr  ir  Ai«c.n  f  i  rm 


■m 


'if; 


rtoaoaA 


axiu. 


uQQamQ 


48     SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

vaguely  uncomfortable  and  apprehensive ;  each 
of  them  M-as  engrossed  with  his  own  thoughts. 
The  stillness  of  the  external  world  caused  the 
voices  of  their  inner  consciousness  to  be  heard 
more  clearly.  One  was  living  over  again  with 
intensified  suffering  the  events  which  had  so 
completely  changed  the  aspect  of  his  future,  the 
other  was  exulting,  with  the  selfish  cruelty  of  a 
gross  nature,  in  anticipation  of  a  long-deferred, 
carefully-plannted  revenge. 

When  they  reached  the  house  and  were  on 
the  point  of  entering,  a  gust  of  wind  blew  tlie 
crape  which  was  tied  on  the  door,  and  it  flapped 
upwards  against  the  face  of  John  Hewson.  He 
started  violently,  shivered,  and  drew  back.  But 
before  he  could  utter  a  word  of  protest,  oi-  in- 
quiry the  minister  ushered  him  inside. 

"  If  you  are  hungry  I'll  see  that  a  lunch  is 
prepared  for  you,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice,  as  he 
took  the  old  man's  hat  arid  vaiise  and  deposited 
them  in  the  hall.  "If  not,  perhaps  you  would 
rather  see  Miss  Grayson  now." 

"  Yes,  yes  ;  no  time  like  the  present,"  was  the 
^ager,  nervous  reply.  "I  haven't  slept  well 
lately,  and  my  nerves  are  i-atlier  shaken.  I  must 
get  this  matter  settled  at  once.  I'm  used  to 
fighting  and  brow-beating  men,  yes,  and  women 
too,  but  a  girl— I'm  not  used  to  that.  If  she 
Jia^  a  sharp  tongue  she  may  be  top  inual^  for  m§, 


:•  1/ 


AN  APOSTLE  OF  HATE. 


49 


DUld 

the 
well 

nust 
i  to 

nen 
she 

m§, 

4 

But  I  say,  Parson,"  he  added  in  a  perplexed 
voice,  "I  didn't  know  you  had  death  in  the 
house.  I  suppose  there  must  be  as  little  dis- 
turbance as  possible."  He  spoke  regretfully; 
it  was  no  small  sacrifice  to  relinquish  the  noisy 
self-assertiveness  and  freedom  of  language  which 
formed  so  large  a  part  of  his  triumphs. 

"  Come  this  way,"  said  Mr.  Ingram.  Softly 
opening  the  door  of  the  parlor  he  passed  inside, 
and  John  He wson,  throwing  back  his  shoulders 
with  an  air  of  dogged  defiance,  and  swelling  his 
chest  to  its  utmost  capacity  followed  close  be- 
hind him. 

A  coffin  resting  upon  two  chairs  occupied  the 
centre  of  the  room.  The  minister  paused  be- 
side it,  and  the  other  man,  yielding  involuntarily 
to  a  mysterious  attraction,  &tood  still  at  the  same 
moment,  and  gazed  down  at  the  beautiful  girl 
who  might  be  supposed  to  be  sleeping,  but  for 
the  marble-like  pallor  and  rigidity  of  facial 
curves,  which  no  sleep  in  life  can  simulate. 
He  looked  long  and  steadily  like  a  man  wrought 
upon  by  some  hypnotic  influence. 

The  minister's  voice  broke  the  silence. 

"This  is  Helen  Grayson,"  he  said,  very 
gently  and  reverently,  "  the  innocent  girl  whose 
happiness  you  sought  to  destroy.  Your  liate 
and  cruelty  have  accomplished  your  purpose 
even  more  auicklv  and  skilfullv  than 
4 


von 


ex- 


HI 


\t 


Ml 


50      SAINTS,  SINNEns  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

pected  You  see  she  is  dead,  quite  dead,"  he 
struggled  for  the  mastery  of  emotions  which 
threatened  to  break  doNvn  liis  self-control,  then 
continued  : 

"  She  was  a  simple-Iiearted  girl.     She  knew 
a  most  notliing  of  oar  world  and  its  ways.     Her 
pleasures  lay  in  the  quiet  paths  of  contentment 
and  duty.     Sorrow  was  unknown  to  her.     She 
loved  nature  and  she  loved  me,"  he  gulped  down 
the  sob  that  rose*  in  his  throat.    "  She  was  kind 
and  gentle;  she  could  not  have  harmed  the  least 
of  God  s  creatures.     Hatred  and  malice  were  as 
far  from  her    as  from  the  angels  in  Heaven, 
bhe  had  the  kindliest  thoughts  for  everybody 
and  not  so  much  as  a  breath  of  bitterness  Avas 
ever  raised  against  her,  for  she  lived  in  the 
charmed  world  of  refined  girlhood.     When  your  ' 
letter  came  she  was  bewildered  and  fri<.htened 
and  scarce  could  understand  the  meaning  of  your 
venomous  words.      The  realization  came  sud- 
denly-too  suddenly.     It  took  hold  of  her  ima^i- 
nation  like  a  hideous  demon  and  goaded  her  to 
the  frenzy  of  madness.     She  had  only  one  wish  • 
•to  escape  from  hei^elf  and  misery,  and  she  took 

liLtr"  ^'   ^'''^'   '^"''''   ""''^  ^^P<^ 

John  Hewson  watched  him  with  a  stran<>-e, 

fascinated  expression,  but  he   did  not  speak. 

Fresentl^  his  glance  returned  to  the  figure  in 


l;ii 


AN  APOSTLE  OF  HATH. 


51 


the  coffin.  He  observed,  with  dulled  sensibilities, 
tiie  texture  of  tlie  shroud,  and  the  white  flowem 
nestling  against  the  fair  cheek  and  throat.  He 
wondered  stupidly  whether  she  had  died  from 
poison  or  drowning.  Gradually  he  wandered 
into  a  labyrinth  of  disconnected,  trivial  conjec- 
ture. 

When  he  lookod  up,  recalled  to  the  con- 
sciousness of  his  surroundings  by  aslightsound, 
lie  discovered  tliat  Mr.  Ingram  had  gone.  He 
had  an  impulse  of  fear  and  hastened  to  leave  the 
room,  but  the  door  resisted  him ;  again  he  tried 
to  open  it,  but  without  effect.  His  wrinkled 
hands  trembled,  and  his  limbs  shook  under  him 
as  he  realized  that  he  Avas  shut  in  with  the  life- 
less body  of  his  victim.  He  wanted  to  cry  out 
but  his  lips  seemed  paralyzed  and  his  parched 
tongue  refused  to  do  him  service.  He  could  not 
look  again  at  the  motionless  girl ;  for  he  fancied 
that  her  face  had  a  different  expression  now. 
He  was  sure  that  her  eyes  were  open,  and  turned 
on  him  with  a  mocking  gleam  as  if  to  taunt 
him  with  the  helplessness  of  his  position,  the 
emptiness  of  his  revenge,  and  the  cowardly  feel- 
ings that  possessed  him. 

He  moved  stealthily  around  the  room,  taking 
care  to  keep  his  eyes  averted  from  the  coffin, 
and  finally  sat  down  in  the  farthest  corner  with 
his  back  turned  to  the  silent  occunant  and  Kti»rP!d 


JMl 


hV 


f 


ih 


U 


62    sAmTs,  sfmms  Am  QtrsEn  peoplb. 
blankly  at  tl.o  wall.     Suddenly  a  face  took  slnne 
vaguely  outlined  at  f  .t  agafnst  a  U^t^tZ 

me  It     It  was  a  man's  face  and  it  wore  a  smilfl 
,   "f  '"^ff''W°  peace  and  happiness. 

"Giayson,  you   sneak  I"  muttered   tlie  old 

come  back  to  jeer  at  me,  have  you  ?  "  hJ 
turned  h,s  head  in  another  direct  on  that  he 
m,ght  not  meet  fl,at  ..diant  glance  which  ec^T 
tmsted  so  painfully  with   hi  own  condit  "n 

eclge  of  .uch  misery  as  appeals  to  the  comnre 
l.ens.on  but  adds  poignancy  to  the  sensaZsof 
a  disordered  bruin.     "  Wh/  had  he  fancied   H 
hewasalone  ?"he  asked  himself.     The  room    a' 
a hve  with  people  whom  he  had  never  expecld 

How;:rh-  "^'''^--»M..arays::r 

How  well  he  remembered  those   wistful   dis 
tressed  features,  but  she  too  had  earned  He,' 
ward  of^patient  suffering,  and  a  smile  curved  he; 

a.e°ncv\n"''  "^P""'"'*   -"^   '^   ^y   ^'^I^lieal 
agency,  all  joyous  and  animated  by  the  con 

s  .ousness  of  final  victory,  which  could  nevt 
know  defeat  at  his  hands.    He  had  done    ,1 

CaVd'tr ''"' '''' '""''  •-"'  -  -"^ 

Hue  "'^  °^'''' '"'  "''"'^'^  S»™e  of 


An  apostle  of  iiAfE. 


53 


He  put  his  hands  over  his  eyes  to  shut  out 
their  penetrating  derision,  but  lie  could  still 
see  them.  A  dumb  rage  and  despair  seized  upon 
him  ;  the  hosts  of  his  enemies  were  bearing 
down  upon  him  in  unassailable  strength,  with 
sharpened  weapons  forged  from  the  fire  of  their 
earthly  torture,  and  guided  by  the  hand  of  Divine 
retribution.  His  senses  were  distorted  ;  it  was 
agony  to  believe  in  them,  yet  he  could  not  mis- 
trust them  without  being  plunged  still  deeper 
into  the  delirium  of  ghastly  fears  and  hideous 
images. 

He  was  surrounded  on  fill  sides  by  these 
creatures  of  his  disorganized  fancy;  he  had 
never  feared  realities,  but  now  he  shuddered 
at  the  slightest  approach  or  gesture  of  these 
phantoms,  who  exulted  so  openly  in  the  weight 
of  misery  which  oppressed  him.  Worst  of  all, 
the  dead  girl  had  found  speech  wherewith  to 
stab  him.  He  knew  without  looking  that  she 
liad  raised  hei*self  and  was  staring  at  him  with 
eyes  like  coals  of  fire. 

"  Murderer  !  "  she  whispered.  "  What  of 
your  soul ?  " 

He  groaned  and  hid  his  face  deeper  in  his 
arms.  The  cold  perspiration  broke  out  on  his 
brow,  and  he  shook  from  head  to  foot  as  if  he 
had  the  palsj'. 

"  Prav,  Door  sinner.  t3ray !  "  This  time  it  was 


»      1  lh.:l. 


I    1 1    !■ 


II 


f    I 


I 

44  SATNT.9.  mx^iti  Am  aesat  Pm'ts. 

tl.e  Voica  of  her  ,vl,o  had  been  hfa   wif..   „„a 
^  hose  Y  moment.  Inul  beou  ombittero  I  L  t  « 

Jolm  lie,vso„  lived  a  lifetime  of  aconize.! 
W.e«  I„,g  with  g,.i,„  Nemesis,  i,.  ,I,„  twoC  « 

Btel  In t,  "'  7.'"' '■<''»'"- 1  ^vith  hushed  foot- 

ahu  Jr  '""  "■°"'"'"=S  '"  "  -""•■'"•  like 

ahunted cmmnal ;  wild^yed,  f,.a,.K.s,s,  „„d  fem" 

iiig  Jeaifully  from  his  own  shadow. 

A  wonderful  tenderness  and  comnassion  swe, ,t 
over  the  younger  man's  faee.  He  stooped  ad 
eneuohng  the  writhing  form  with  his  fi™.  riJ^ 
arm  raised  him  to  his  feet,  and  support  ghL 
feeble  weight,  led  him  gently  from 'the  "om 
He  did  not  leave  him  again,  but  s^t  iT  • 

a::a:ct:r  fSer^dr^  r  *^^"'''' 

far  off.     Hi3  eonv„i::r;t    gX   h'd  iZ""' 
jope.     Jie  iiad  cried  m  crhtilv  fnr  /?«]•  ^ 

w  *J:r/? '" '--"  Snfi^iS"? 

Lasteced  to  his  relief.  The  spirit  of  Hate  Ind 
«one  out  of  hUn,  a„d  his  heart' returned  to  E 
as  it  had  been  m  his  childhood.  He  could  not 
S  ::  ''"^'"r'^  "l-p  again-  bu  h  W 
qwet,  saymg  a  few  word,  from  time  to  time 


A]^  APOSTIE  OP  IIAT^. 


65 


111  a  voice  of  strange   ilifBclence   and   simplic- 
ity. 

"  Tell  me  again,  Parson,  tluit  you  don't  hold 
a  grudge  against  mo,"  he  said  wistfully.  "  I've 
taken  away  your  dearest  treasure." 

Robert  Ingram's  head  was  bowed  in  his  hands, 
and  tears  dripped  through  his  fingers  ;  tears  that 
rose  from  a  complete  emotion  of  solemn  joy  over 
a  penitent  soul,  and  sorrow  for  the  beloved  dead 
whose  frozen  youth  and  beauty  was  ever  before 
his  eyes,  though  it  lay  in  the  next  room. 

"  No,  my  friend,"  he  replied,  "  neither  you 
nor  any  one  else  can  take  her  fiom  me.  She  is 
mine  still,  eternally  mine  in  Christ.  I  forgive 
you  freely  even  as  I  hope  to  be  forgiven.  But 
you  have  sinned  grievously.  Settle  that  witli 
your  Maker." 

"  I  have  settled  it.  Parson,  and  I've  got  some- 
thing liere" — laying  his  hand  on  his  heart — 
"that  I  don't  undei-stand  as  yet.  It's  made  up 
of  sunshine,  and  love,  and  unshed  tears,  as  soft 
and  gentle  as  summer  rain.  I  never  felt  any- 
thing like  it.  Parson.  I've  been  pinching  myself 
to  make  sure  it  isn't  a  dream." 
.    A  little  later  he  said  weakly, 

"It  goes  to  my  heart.  Parson,  that  you  should 
be  so  kind  to  me  after  all  I've  done.  I've  known 
many  men  in  my  day,  but  none  like  you.  I'd 
like  to  live  long  enough  to  do  you  a  good  turn, 


y  .    ¥ 


r 


66      ^^^INTS,  SlNkKliS  ANJJ  QUUmi  PEOPL^^, 
but  I  guess  my  time's  up.     Tlut's  tl.e  hardest 
tliought;  that  I  can't  undotlio  wrong  I've  done 
i    want   to   love   everybody  and    make    things 
P  c^sant  in  the  workl.     It's  a  sad  worhl  at  heft, 
and   tlie    cruelost    thing  in  it  is  Hate.      Yes 
J  see  It  now.     Oh,  Parson,  can't  I  make  up  for 
It  somehow  ?    Don't  you  think  that  an  old  man 
like  me  who  was  his  own  worst  enemy  and  didn't 
i^now  It,   will  have  another  chance  where  I'm 
going,  to  treat  folks  lovingly  like  Him  you  ve 
been  reading  about  ?    I'd  be  doubly  glad  to  go 

children  s  faces,  and  lift  the  burdens  of  the  old 
aye,  and  to  make  young  maidens  and  their  lovers 
happy.     Speak,  man  !     Don't  you  think  the  next 
world  Will  be  very   nuich  like   this  one,   only 
be    er  and  purer  and  more  beautiful?     Surely 
1 11  have  another  chance  to  make  people  happy  ?  - 
His  thin  lips  trembled  pitifully,  and   in   his 
eaniestness  he  reached  out  the  wrinkled  hand  that 
had  been  fluttering  nervously  on  the  coverlid 

and   clutched   the  minister's  sleeve. 

"  It  maybe  so,"  said  the  other  cautiously,  and 

the  dying  man  lay  back  on  his  pillow  with  an 

expression  of  peace  on  his  face. 
''  Put   up  a    word   of    prayer.   Parson,"    he 

whispered,  "I'm  going  down  into  the  valley. 

It  IS  cold  and  dark.     Pray   and  I'll  say  Amen 

when  you  come  to  the  end." 


AN  APOSTLE  OF  HATE. 


67 


llobert  Ingram  knelt  down,  and  stilling  the 
trembling  of  tlio  wasted  liandin  his  strong  clasp, 
prayed  brokenly  : 

"  Dear  Father,  take  home  Thy  penitent  child  I 
Give  him  an  abundant  welcome  into  the  king- 
dom of  love.  lie  has  beei  wandering  in  dark- 
ness and  sin  for  many  years,  and  is  bruised  and 
weary  and  heart  1  u'lgrj .  A  little  light  lias 
come  into  his  soul,  ;ii'  ugh  v»show  him  his  need 
of  Thee.  Dear  Fai,^<-r,  j^  ;ther  him  into  Thy 
arms  of  love,  and  cai.y  liim  tenderly  into  the 
fold." 

He  did  not  rise  from  his  knees  immediately, 
but,  with  a  closer  pressure  of  the  hand,  waited 
for  the  promised  word. 

But  John  Hewson's  "Amen"  had  passed 
beyond  the  hearing  of  mortal  ears. 


!  ■'!! 


li 


¥     II 


A  DAY  IN  OASTLE  BOHEMIA 


nnS        •'"""'^'^  '^  ''  "'«  Woof  of  wS 

motlier  was  Her  Maiestv     A,l,i;„  .i,       j 

tho  Plni.i,.  •       •"     •*  ■    ■'^^''"'e'  the  eldest  of 

the  ch,lcl,e„,  a  s.xteen-year-old  young  lady  wl.o 

«3  an  example  of  p.e„,atu,.e  a„d^p,Z bus 

«to,  p,obabIy  because  it  was  she  who  invented 
meknames  for  the  othe,«.  Alfred,  because  of 
h,s  wonderful  variety  of  talents,  had  b^en  re 

ilr  ^Z'""  *'"  '^'•^•^'-  Caroh-nt  V  ,0 
was  the  most  poetical  one  a.nong  them    JZ 

know„  .n   the    household    ,s    CaLul   Ca.:i: 

2'  the  w,se  Edmond  was  Grimes,  and  Har 

old,  „„  overgrown  l«y  whose  pei^onality  ,™ 

ent...  y  devoid  o.  angelic  suggestivene  s,  r^ 


A  DAY  IN  CASTLE  BOHEMIA.  59 

joiced  ill  tlie  name  of  Seraph,  while  Bobbie,  the 
youngest,  a  mischievous  lad  of  five  years,  went 
by  various  appellations  which  fittingly  described 
his  promiscuous  iniquities. 

The  family  en  masse  were  spoken  of  by  out- 
siders in  significant  phraseology,  as  "  The  queer, 
clever  Wilsons,"  "  The  think-much,  do-notliing 
Wilsons,"  "  The  rich,  lazy  Wilsons."  Probably 
no  one  enjoyed  these  labels  as  much,  or  appre- 
ciated their  appropriateness  as  tlxoroughly,  as  the 
Wilsons  themselves,  for  they  had  a  nice,  dis- 
crimination in  the  matter  of  titles,  and  their 
alert  faculties  were  keenly  attuned  to  the  least 
symptom  of  acuteness  in  otlier  people. 

The  juniors  were  considered  remarkable  in 
many  ways.  TJiey  had  a  certain  crude  maturity 
beyond  their  years,  and  a  bubbling  vitality 
which  characterized  their  every  motion.  Their 
talents  were  as  conspicuous  as  their  eccentricities, 
and  their  egotism  was  nothing  more  than  the 
harmless,  natural  enjoyment  which  exuberant 
boys  and  girls  derive  from  the  contemplation 
of  their  own  cleverness. 

Their  manners,  ideas,  and  customs  were  pecul- 
iarly their  own  by  right  of  origin,  copyrighted 
by  preference,  not  picked  up  from  the  prevail- 
ing sentiments  of  the  day  or  the  codes  which 
regulate  the  machinery  of  conventional  society.. 
Perhaps  the^  would  have  made  some  effort  ^9 


60     SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

identify   the  fiery  quality  of  tlieir  individual 
tendencies  with  the  slower,  steadier  pulse  of 
humanity  at  large,  if  the  advisability  of  so  doina 
had  ever  been  sufficiently  impressed  upon  them. 
But  after  they  had  been  ushered  into  the  world, 
had  been  nursed,  fed,  petted,  and  gently  repri- 
manded  during  the  period  of  infantile  suscepti- 
bility,  they  were  allowed  to  spring  up  as  best 
11  ey  could,  under  the  sole  guidance  of  nature  ; 
who,  as  everybody  l^nows,  will  play  queer  pranks 
when  left  to  herself,  and  deliglits  in  the  evolu- 
tion  of  freaks,  joyous,  laughter-loving,  irrespon- 
sible  creatures,  who  nestle  close  to  her  heart  as 
to  a  sympathetic  mother,  and  accept  the  smiles 
and  frowns  of  uncongenial  mortals  with  serene 
maitterence. 

King  William,  one  of  the  best  and  most  con- 
scientious  of  fathei-s,  was   unavoidably  absent 
from  home  a  great  part  of  the  time  on  account 
o.  busmess  exigencies,  and  Her  Majesty,  whose 
trail  physical  teneraent  was  poorly  equipped  for 
the  accommodation  of  her  extraordinary  brain 
power,  was   seldom  in  Castle  Bohemia,  if  she 
was  able  to  be  anywhere  else ;  for  though  she 
was  consbintly  experimenting  in  patent  medi- 
cines,  the  unvarying  i„oscription  of  the  family 
physician  was  «  change  of  air  and  scenery  " 

So  it  frequently  came  to  pass  that  slie  cast 
mide  her  sovereignty  as  a  burden  too  heavy  to 


A  DAY  IN  CASTLE  BOHEMIA. 


61 


be  borne  by  a  lady  of  delicate  constitution,  and 
took  to  herself  the  freedom  of  an  iintranimelled 
existence ;  while  her  children — strong  to  com- 
mand, to  do,  and  to  dare — reigned  in  her  stead, 
if  not  always  with  skill  and  judgment,  at  least 
with  a  degree  of  hilarity  unknown  during  Her 
Majesty's  supremacy. 

They  grew  and  flourished  and  spread  them- 
selves, shooting  out  the  branches  of  their  vigorous 
mentality  in  all  directions,  like  young  trees  that 
have  never  felt  the  pruning  knife. 

The  servants  imbibed  freely  of  the  exhilarat- 
ing lawlessness  of  the  establiahment,  and  wliile 
they  performed  their  duties  fairly  well,  their 
methods  were  erratic,  their  manners  excitable  and 
jovial,  and  hopelessly  out  of  keeping  with  their 
position  as  menials.  After  living  a  short  time 
with  the  Wilsons,  they  were  obliged  to  "  stay 
on "  or  join  a  comic  variety  troupe,  for  they 
were  totally  unfitted  for  the  monotony  of 
domestic  service  outside  of  Castle  Bohemia. 
Rhoda  Jennings,  the  house-maid,  explained  this 
singular  process  at  some  length  to  Biddy  Ma- 
guire,  the  washerwoman,  as  tliey  ate  their  dinner 
together  within  sound  of  the  lively  talk  which 
proceeded  from  the  dining-room. 

"  My  h'eye  I "  she  said  scornfully,  "  don't  talk 
to  me  about  goin'  anywheres  for  bigger  wages, 
Biddy  Maguire,  because  I  couldn't  do  it  nohow. 


62     SAIMTS,  SIMNEBS  AND  qUBBH  PEOPLE. 
Wl,at'»  wages,  to  fun,  an'  music,  an'  queer  'appen- 
usfron.  m„™  till  night,  week  in,  week  out? 
It  s  as  good  as  goin'  to  a  eireus  every  day  to  live 
m  this   family,  special  when  Her  Majesty  h 
aw.^.     They  settle  down  ^  quiet  as  laX  for  a 
while  of  a  morn  „';  Miss  Addie  wrapped  up  i„  her 
•poultry  news,' whatever  that  means.        know 

itt?  nw"^'"  "'  """"'"'  "'"^    -^^  «- 
Tnd  t,  ^T''"\  ""."  «'"«''-''^ffg''<l  clothes-W, 
and  Seraph  rockm'  and  readin'  an'  lettin'  the 

pl..y.n   soft  an'  slow  on  the  fuldle,  and  a  sort 
of  sleepy    dyin'  away  feelin'  takes  'old  of  tl  e 

thriit^t    1  '?P''  'T  '"^■'"■'"^  ""'"■•   'That's 
theJrsthaeVse.    I,  and  I  waits  for   the 

"Sure  enough  it  comes  along  betimes  like  a 

band-wagon  with  all  the  h'instruments  blowin' to 
once.   Miss  Addie  comes  out  of  herpoultry  news 
an  dresses  up  like  the  Queen  of  Sheba  when  she' 
set  her  eap  to  Solomon.     The  Great  puts  the 
c  othes-  orse  ,n  a  corner  and  w.ishcs  the  paint  off 
his  ands,  and  when  they're  all  fixed  up  fine  they 
toast  their  toes  an'  talk  just  beautiful,  like  folks 
in  stmy-books.    I  can't  work  while  that's  goin' 
on     I  never  went  to  school  moie'n  six  months, 
but  since  I  came  here  I  swear  to  goodness,  BiddJ 

r:^,"":';'  "  ?!""'  •='"-'-'■    I  J'>«t  <l-ps  what 
im  dom,  and  listens;  sometimes  I  laughs  in- 


*  ir 


J  DAY  IN  CASTLE  BOHEMIA.  63 

nerdly  like  to  bustin'  an'  the  buttons  flies  off  my 
clothes  at  the  talk  they  gets  off. 

"Tlien  along  of  the  afternoon  callers  keep 
clroppin'  in,  an'  Miss  Addie  always  has  cake 
and  lemonade,  or  sandwiches  an'  coffee  to  pass 
around.  I  declare  to  goodness  I'm  sick  of  the 
sight  of  victuals.  Bobbie  livens  up  things  by 
tumbiin'  into  the  water-barrel,  or  dabbin'  the 
chairs  with  mucilage,  orsettin'  fire  to  something, 
an'  then  there's  a  general  scrimmage  an'  ram- 
page. An'  between  laughin'  an'  cryin'  and  not 
knowin'  what's  goiji'  to  'appen  next,  I  feel  that 
frolicsome  that  I  can't  keep  my  feet  from  wig- 
glin',  it's  as  good  as  'avin'  St.  Vitus  dance. 

"Then  in  the  evenin',  my  h'eye !  Biddy 
Maguire,  it  beggai-s  all  prescription,  as  The 
Great  would  say.  Miss  Addie's  gentlemen 
come  pourin'  in  like  the  h'animals  into  the 
1 1 'ark,  and  she  and  Miss  Carrie  play  do-its  on  the 
piano,  and  The  Great  sings  and  twiddles  on  the 
git-thar,  and  Grimes  plays  the  fiddle  to  words 
of  his  own  ammunition,  an'  Miss  Addie  sings 
imp-romp-you. 

"  Then  they  put  the  furniture  into  the  'all  an' 
dance  around  like  tops.  An'  Bobbie,  slippiu' 
downstairs  in  his  night-gown  as  soft  as  you 
please  to  eat  jam  an'  sugar  in  the  pantry,  falls 
over  the  chairs  and  lets  a  'owl  out  of  him  fit 
to  w^ke  th^  4^n.d,  an'  the  gentlemen  come  out 


*ii 


I 


m 


I  «!*'■ 


64     SAINTS,  SINNERS  AN  I)  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

an'  give  him  five  centses,  ,i\\'  he  pays  me  toll  to 
get  into  the  pantry  and,  .>Ii,  my  h'eye,  Biddy  ! 
we  do  'ave  rich  times.  I  just  revels  in  tiiem.' 
That  Bobl)ie  is  the  blessedest  child  tliat  ever 
drew  breatli.  He  is  a  h'oin  an'-ho'ii  bit  of 
Satan,  that's  what  he  is.  Miss  Addie  calls  him 
'  'Rip^inal  Sin,'  but  that's  not  stiong  enough  for 
Bobbie,  no  ma^am.  I  knows  him  well,  no  one 
better,  we're  --^  i id^lr  as  two  peas,  and  I  calls  him 
a  '  H'out-an'-li'ou(.ei\ 

Biddy  Magai  ve   -  r>,s  coiLstrained  to  admit  that 
a  situation  in.  tlie  Wilson  domicile  had  advan- 
tages which  money  could  not  purchase,  and  that 
perhaps,  all  things  considered,  Rhoda  could  not  - 
do  better  than  remain  M'here  she  was. 

"  And  Mias  Addie  is  so  obligin',  never  speaks 
unpolite  no  matter  what  I  do,  though  sometimes 
siie  and  Miss  Carrie  takes  to  laughin'  till  I  think 
they  11  'urt  their  insides,  an'  then  I  laughs  too. 
I  can't  'elp  it.  Just  after  I  came  'ere,  my  young 
man  come  to  see  me ;  he  lives  a  long  way  off,  an' 
I  hadn't  seen  him  for,  oh  my  goodness,  Kever  so 
long  I 

"  Of  course  I  didn't  take  him  into  the  big 
drawin'-room  with  the  mirrors  and  pictures  an' 
life-size  piano  an'  glitterin'  things,  I  know  my 
place  too  well  for  that.  I  just  took  hiiii  quiet 
and  modest  like  into  one  of  the  himitation  par- 
lors on  t'other  side  of  the  'all,  an'  we  sat  there 


\ 


A  DAY  IN  CASTLE  BOHEMIA. 


65 


on  the  sofa  as  'umble  as  you  please.  Joey  was 
just  at  his  wits  h'end  with  jollity,  he  was.  He 
squeezed  me  close  around  the  waist  and 
said  : 

"  '  Rhoda,  my  gal,  you've  struck  a  soft  sit  this 
time ;  this  'ere  sofa  is  meltin'  under  me,  an'  the 
sparkle  of  that  crystal  ganderleer,  all  lighted  up 
like  a  Christmas  tree,  'as  got  into  my  h'eyes  so  I 
can't  see  you,  Rhoda  my  dear,'  said  he.  *  I'll  'ave 
to  go  by  my  feelin's  or  I'll  not  know  you're  there,' 
said  he.  And  drat  the  man ;  if  he  didn't  squeeze 
me  so  tight,  that  I  could  'ardly  breathe,  and  I 
was  in  the  sweetest  h'agony,  between  wanting  to 
breathe  more  h'easy  like,  and  not  wantin'  him  to 
stop,  I  was  on  the  'orns  of  a  jellemma  as  The 
Great  would  say. 

"  Then  of  a  sudden  Miss  Addie  and  her  young 
gentleman  comes  into  the  room,  soft  and  un- 
suspected, and  I  blushed  into  the  roots  of  my 
'air,  I  was  that  shameba!;rhed  and  confusebar- 
rassed,  for  Joey's  h'arm  was  round  my  waist 
and  his  mouthe,  drat  that  man,  was  aperiently 
tryin'  to  go  by  its  feelin's  I  But  Miss  Addie' 
just  coughed  a  little  an'  turned  her  'ead  away, 
an'  the  gentleman  coughed  a  deal  'arder  behind 
his  'andkerchief,  and  then  Miss  Addie  said  : 

" '  This  room  isn't  as  warm  as  it  might  be.   I'm 
afraid  you'll  catch  cold,  Rhoda.     I  think  you'll 

find  '*■•  '^naior  in  flio  IrifoTion  ' 


imi 


66 


(( ( 


SAINTS,  SINNEliS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

*  Don't  trouble  about  me,  Miss  Addie,'  I 
said.  *  I'm  as  comfortable  as  heiiiiything.  But 
you  needn't  go  h'out  because  we'ie  'ere,  we'll 
keep  to  our  side  of  the  room.'  " 

."  ^"^,  ^""^y  ^'"^'^SS^d  n.y  sleeve  with  a  lambish 
gnu  an  said,  '  Come  h'out  of  'ere,  I  feel  like  a 
Ji  elephant  in  a  china-box,'  said  he.  So  h'out  we 
went.  Joey  is  „o  'and  for  style,  an' if  I  was 
ired  in  the  Queen  of  Ilingland's  palace  he 
would  want  to  do  his  'uggin'  in  the  kitchen." 

The   unexpected    was  always   happening  in 
Castle   Bohemia,  and  occasioned  less  surprise 
than  a  continued  state  of  uninterrupted  seren- 
ity,    bo  when  one  morning  i,i  January,  Care- 
ful Came  entered  the  library  where  the  other 
members  of  the  family  were  congregated  and  an- 
iiounced  that  the  domestic  machinery  had  come 
to  a  standstill,   tli6  information  was  received 
with  the  utmost  equanimity.     Addie,  who  av;is 
reclining  on  a  couch  among  a  heap  of  silken  pil- 
lows, pencil  and  paper  in  hand,  added  two  lines 
to  the  last  ver^e  she  had  written,  and  altered 

sublime  The  Great,  standing  before  his 
easel,  with  a  paint-brush  behind  each  ear,  and 
hishairrising  up  from  his  head  in  a  wildly 
perturbed  manner,  worked  a  little  cobalt  blue 
into  the  eyes  of  King  William,  and  touched 
up  the  dimple  in  his  chin. 


A  DAY  m  CASTLE  BOHEMIA 


m 


Crrimes  turned  Ji  page  in  "  The  Life  of  Charles 
Dickens,"  and  continued  to  read  with  unabated 
interest.  Tlie  famous  English  novelist  was  his 
favorite  comi)anion ;  in  fact,  he  made  a  pet 
hobby  of  him  and  of  late  had  instituted  in  liis 
library  a  new  department  which  was  devoted 
exclusively  to  this  author's  works,  and  a  wide 
collection  of  literature  relating  to  him. 

Seraph,  from  principles  of  policy,  feigned 
deafness.  He  was  rocking,  as  usual,  and  ponder- 
ing some  scientific  inventions  that  were  shaping 
themselves  in  his  creative  brain,  and  bade  fair 
to  rank  worthily  with  the  latest  achievements 
of  Edison. 

Carrie,  after  several  futile  attempts  to  secure 
attention,  broke  out  desperately  : 

"  Wilsons  all,  big  and  small,  listen  to  my  tale 
of  woe.  The  cook  went  home  yesterday  to 
nurse  a  sick  sister,  and  now  Rhoda,  who  prom- 
ised to  help  with  the  meals,  is  laid  up  with 
rheumatism,  and  declares  that  she  can't  do 
another  stroke  of  work  to-day." 

"  I  knew  there  would  be  something  the  mat- 
ter with  her,"  said  Addie  with  conviction. 

"  Yesterday  I  saw  her  meditating  over  a  pa- 
tent medicine  circular.  She  never  reads  the  ad- 
vertisements wrapped  around  Her  Majesty's 
medicine  bottles  without  imagining  that  she 
has   everv  svmntom   nf  thp  mnljirlv  rlA«ov;Vu»d 


(i 


■4: 


G8 


SAINTS,  SINNKHH  Alft)  QtfEl^R  PKOPLPi. 

iwe,  and  now  it  is 


■OttiL    '. '1 


Last  week  it  was 
rlieuniatism." 

"  Our  Biddies  ire  the  most  unreliable  creatuies 
I  ever  heard  of,"  said  The  Great.  "  If  they  are 
healthy  themselves  their  relati--  -  ,„,*^,  uy 
be  sick  or  dying,  and  when  they  happen  by 
chance  to  be  in  a  normal  condition  of  active 
service,  they  do  more  laughing  and  talking 
than  an^,  Jung  else.  Where's  little  Flinpetv 
the  chore-girl  ? "      «  i-i^    J'> 

"flome    with   her  mother,"  replied    Carrie. 

^>he  wa.  afraid  she  was  getting  lockjaw  with 
aughmg  so   much  at  Bobbie,  and  complained 
that  It  hurt  hei-  to  shut  lier  mouth." 

"Surely  she  didn'f  pretend  that  the  difficulty  of 
closnig  her  mo.'li  was  of  sudden  development," 
said  Grimes.     "  I  observed  it  months  ago." 

"We  ought  to  have  a  reserve  supply  of  sr... 
ants  who  could  be  called  in  at  any  time  to  do 
the  work  Avhen  the  others  are  off  duty,  .suff- 
gested  Seraph,  in  hi     low  '^eep  vf    o. 

"Yes,  and  pay  them  ten  dollars  a  month 
while  they  waited,  iMi^Bwher-Jike  for  sicknp-s 
ThrWisT    ^"  ^''^^"•^'^ical  idea,  u  aly  \  "  said 

"Economy  is  all  very  well  for  people  ^.ho 
are  obliged  to  practise  it,"  co  in'  d  Seraph 
argumentati  ely,  "  but  we  are  t,  ...d  what's 
the  1.6  ol  saving  money  I'd  like  to  know  ?    It 


A  t)Ar  Iff  ClASfLE  BOUEMIA. 


dd 


must  be  spent  some  time  or  .vhat's  the  good  of 
liiiviiig  it?  I  don't  bylieve  in  doing  without 
luxuries  when  it's  possible  to  have  them.  It's  a 
mistaken  principle." 

"  Let  up,  Seraph,"  admonished  Grimes, 

"  I  think  it  might  not  be  amiss  to  engage 
another  servant,"  remarked  Addie  ;  "  we  could 
easily  keep  three  or  four  busy  in  this  house,  and 
we  would  be  less  lik'  ^y  to  be  left  in  the  lurch 
so  often." 

*'  Well,  we  can  advertise,  at  any  rate,"  sug- 
gested The  Great,  "  and  make  definite  arrange- 
ments afterwards.  I'll  write  the  advertisement, 
and  Bobbie  can  take  it  to  the  Times  office." 

He  drew  a  pencil  and  note-book  from  his 
pocket  and  scribbled  a  few  lines  which  he  read 
aloud. 


f 


fii: 


; 


Vanted ;  For  general  housework,  a  strong, 
Iiealthy  ^iil,  who  is  not  addicted  to  excessive 
conversation  and  laughter,  or  the  annoying 
habit  of  becoming  suddenly  lielpless.  Must  be 
willing  to  do  whuo  is  .required  of  her  iliont 
questions  or  excuses.     Wages  no  object." 

"  What  about  luncheon  to-day  ?  "  asked  the 
younger  sister. 

"  Ordi  r  it  from  Riley's  by  telephone,  and 
make  tea  to  drink  vith  it,"  repln  1  Addie.     "    11 


wat.."      '  *"•  ^°"   "■-'   ''""^  -ood   and 
The  youth  thus  addressed,  who  was  a  nw>. 

f  l'«jvas  long,  reluctantly  dm<rtred   1,;1  u 
Jo»«^ha.and.«a.dedUrUTr 

"  You're  the  stoutest,  and  you  reonJrp  n. 
casional  exerci^P  f«  foi      i    ''^      requiie  tho  oc- 

-solved  to  get  thin  .wi,;'"''™^^^ 

theSd'^TSjlVe^rT"'''''''  '"'^"""^  ■" 
«„<■  •  X  ^^^  '^  chance  to  think  wUh 

"ow  good  Jus  fundamental  ideas  are,  if 


A  i>At  tJf  CASTLE  lidTlEMTA.  fl 

people  are  always  disturbing  him,  when  his 
mind  is  intent  on  cranks  and  springs  and  electric 
currents.  Edison  couldn't  do  it,  nor  anybody 
else."  There  was  no  heat  of  anger  in  liis  utter- 
ances, but  his  voice  had  a  note  of  dreary  pes- 
simism, sad  to  hear  from  one  so  young  and 
robust. 

"  Stop  moralizing,  Seraph,  and  go  on,"  said 
Grimes,  gently  applying  the  toe  of  his  boot  to  a 
conspicuous  portion  of  his  brother's  trousers. 

"  Well,  there  will  be  a  change  some  time,  that's 
one  comfort,"  continued  the  victim  of  domestic 
fluctuations  as  he  put  one  foot  before  the  other. 
"I'm  inventing  a  machine  that  will  attend  to 
the  wood  and  water  business.  When  I  get  it  in 
working  order  Carrie  will  have  to  sing  another 
tune  besides,  '  Come,  Seraph.' "  A  gleam  of 
hope  was  struggling  through  the  clouds  of  sad- 
ness on  his  brow  iis  he  slowly  wended  his  way 
to  the  wood-pile. 

There  was  silence  once  more  in  the  library. 

Once  a  piercing  shriek  broke  the  still- 
ness which  created  a  temporary  disturbance. 
Grimes  ran  to  the  door  to  ascertain  the  cause. 

"Bobbie  has  fallen  downstairs,"  explained 
The  Wise,  endeavoring  to  gather  a  pair  of  lively 
legs  and  arms  into  her  sisterly  embrace. 

"Oh,  is  that  all?  Then  hit  him,"  said 
Grimes  much  relieved. 


ii: 


.  !1 


'IK 


-  f  :^f 


72     SAmtS,  sm^miS  AND  QZTEEIi  PEOPLE 

"  Yes,  Lit  him  and  comfort  the  staii-s,"  advised 
Ihe  Great. 

Bobbie  was  composed  of  an  elastic,  inde- 
stiuctible substance  like  india  rubber,  and  thoucrh 
he  possessed  to  an  alarming  degree  the  facuUy 
of  smashing  everything  he  touched,  nothing 
seemed  hard  enough  to  smash  him,  or  inflict  any 
visible  mark  of  contact,  and  the  yells  which  an- 
nounced his  catastrophes  were  the  result  of 
inght  rather  than  injury. 

After  luncheon  the  family  gathered  before  a 
cheerful  grate  fire  in  the  drawing-room.     Thev 
were  irresponsible  young  persons  with  an  abun- 
dance  of  leisure  which  they  employed  largelv 
111  the  development  of  their  liobbies,  and  when 
tliey  had  nothing  more  imperative  on  hand  they 
talked  witn  a  vim  and  experimental  relish  which 
was  thoroughly   enjoyable   to   them,  though   a 
sedate  listener  who  favored  artistic   reticence 
would    have  chafed   under  their   extravagant 
language  and  the  boldness  of  their  premtes. 
1  iieir  talent  for  observation  was  brought  to  bear 
upon  themselves  as  well  as  upon  other  people. 
Uieytook  themselves   in   hand   not  seriously 
nor  yet  flippantly,   but   with   a    disinterested 
psychological  inquisitiveness  which  had  no  im- 
niediate   effect,   favorable   or  otherwise,   upon 
their  consciences.     Self-knowledge  was  to  them 
a  voyage  of  exciting  discovery.     They  analyzed 


A  i)AY  m  CASTLE  ^OJlEMtA. 


n 


their  emotions  with  a  tolerant  serenity  not  un- 
mixed witli  humor,  the  tliought  uppermost  in 
their  minds  corresponding  with  the  sentiment: 
"  How  queer  we  mortals  are !  "  It  had  been  de- 
cided in  the  family  circle  that  it  was  the  duty 
of  The  Great  to  make  himself  famous,  and 
in  this  opinion  the  young  fellow  reluctantly 
coincided. 

He  had  no  objection  to  his  chosen  destiny, 
but  the  process  of  making  himself  famous  im- 
plied personal  responsibility  and  the  active  co- 
operation of  his  energies,  and  he  was  very  much 
averse  to  anything  of  that  sort.  The  expecta- 
tions of  liis  relatives  were  a  burden  to  him  in 
anticipation  of  possible  failure,  and  besides  he 
had  not  made  a  permanent  choice  of  vocation. 

He  did  not  know  which  of  his  talents,  if 
assiduously  cultivated,  would  lead  to  success, 
consequently  he  gave  a  little  of  his  time  and 
attention  to  all  of  them.  For  weeks  at  a  stretch 
he  would  labor  under  the  impression  that  he 
would  be  an  artist,  and  tiie  quantity  of  canvas 
he  covered  with  landscapes,  human  heads,  and 
animals,  was  simply  enormous.  At  other  times 
he  was  firmly  convinced  that  he  could  set  the 
world  on  fire  as  a  professional  singer,  and  at 
unseasonable  hours  of  the  day  and  night  his 
rich  baritone  voice  reverberated  through  Castle 
Bohemia. 


N 


•. ;  f 


n    SAtm,  SmNEltS  AND  QUjo^n  pt:oPtS. 

complimented  hi.n  upon  hh  singing  and  m-2 
bod    o   suggest  tl.at  she  should  In^VZl 

oecamc  slightly  moderated.  At  presenf  h. 
i^|ought  of  combining  the  compositic^  of  Isic 
with  portrait  painting,  tliou-h   Im   , 

^ionaU.distuv.^dbya'^i^e     vironZ 
he  ,m  destined  by  nature  for  the  stage       t 

would  be  a  bitter,  awakening  if  afte    fi.^  „ 
wasted  time  and  effort  he  shfnld  d  s  ovenh^t 
he  had  disobeyed  the  primal  W  of  lis  £ 
It  was  eertain  also  that  Addie  ought  trdis' 

S'sSI''"'!"'","'''"^'"^"''" 

^al  tttht„t  ,f  rjt'  the  "■" "'''''%  ""^ 

«,«•  •  1  1  ""um  not.  Mie  was  cojisiderpd 
onginal  and  elever.  even  brilliant,  but  she  Wked 
mental  coneentration,  and  failed  to  u.Iite  the 
X:e"'''^^'""'^''''«'«t^'™tf<'rpe": 
Her  achievements,  such  as  they  were   came 

101  them.     It-,vas  evident  that  she  would  float 
comp  aoently  „p„n  the  stream  of  life,  ,v,th  l"  Ue 

long  as  a  smihng  sky  ,vas  above  her,  and  she 
was  surrounded  by  the  atmosphere  of C"  f, 

love  of  richly  colored  life  and  an  impatienof 


A  BAY  IN  CASTLE  BOHEMIA.  75 

of  monotony,  wliioh  is  one  of  the  penalties  of 
tlie  imaginative  nature. 

It  was  evident  also  that  slie  would  always 
follow  her  instinctive  propensities  whetliei'  tliere 
was  anything  to  be  gained  by  it  or  not.  She 
would  compose  pretty  verses,  interesting  little 
stories,  and  dashing  variations  of  popular  tunes 
to  the  end  of  her  days,  thougli  a  discerning  public 
sliould  be  none  the  wiser.  She  was  impulsive 
and  sympathetic,  and  her  manner  was  charac- 
terized by  a  wholesouled  demonstrativeness 
wliicli  impressed  reticent  persons  unfavorably. 

Her  pleasures  were  intoxications,  her  disap- 
pointments, keen-edged  sorrows.  She  was  a 
veritable  child  of  nature,  made  of  laughter  and 
tears,  moods  and  caprices.  No  one  could  safely 
predict  anything  as  to  lier  ultimate  develoi> 
ment,  there  was  so  much  in  her  personality  that 
was  contradictory. 

The  Wilsons  were  ardent  admirers  of  beauty, 
and  conscientiously  made  the  most  of  themselves 
in  this  respect. 

On  this  particular  af teinoon  Addie  had  donned 
a  becoming  gown  of  pink  crepon,  trimmed  with 
long  ends  and  bows  of  ribbon,  and  her  black  hair 
was  charmingly  arranged  upon  her  shapely  head 
and  set  off  with  a  pink  rose.  There  was  a  con- 
fident ease  and  self-assurance  in  lier  attitudes 
which  was  not  becoming  in  such  an  uusophis- 


11 
I 


76     SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

ticated  damsel.  She  had  been  told  so  often  that 
she  was  charming  and  pretty  that  she  accepted 
the  homage  of  flattery  as  a  matter  of  course. 

She  had  been  figuring  in  the  lole  of  a  heart- 
breaker  ever  since  she  had  reached  the  matuie 
age  of  tliirteen,  and  of  late,  after  many  distract- 
ing experiences  of  a  tender  nature,  in  which  her 
.  pity  for  her  suffering  victims  far  outweighed 
any  petty  sense  pi  triumph  suggested  by  tlie 
spirit  of  coquetry,  she  had  begun  to  think 
seriously  of  marriage  as  the  only  escape  from 
the  tragic  elements  of  existence. 

Carrie,  who  was  two  years  younger,  had  long 
since  decided  that  her  mission  in  life  was  to  be 
an  old  maid,  a  comfort  to  tlie  declining  years 
of  Her  Majesty,  and  King  William,  and  a  per- 
severing check  upon  Seraph's  laziness  and  pon- 
derosity. But  she  was  much  concerned  about 
her  sister's  prospects,  and  considered  her  case 
rather  desperate. 

A  girl  who  could  refuse  so  many  eligible 
suitors  in  so  short  a  time,  and  that  too  in  the 
coolest  manner  possible,  without  a  heart-throb 
or  regretful  tear  on  her  own  account,  was  in 
imminent  danger  of  becoming  an  unscrupulous 
flirt,  or  of  finally  mating  with  the  "crooked 
stick,"  which  is  to  be  found  at  the  end  of  the 
woods. 

Carrie  was  playing  a  brilliant  waltz  on  the 


A  DAY  IN  CASTLE  BOHEMIA. 


77 


piano,  and  Addie  was  enjoying  a  lively  di.scus- 
sion  with  Grimes  and  The  Great,  upon  the 
subject  of  idealization  in  general,  and  Dickens' 
idealization  of  his  sister-in-law  in  particular, 
when  the  door-bell  rang. 

The  elder  sister  rose  to  answer  the  summons. 

"Addie,"  said  The  Wise,  anxiously,  "if  it 
should  be  Dick  Norris,  don't  ask  him  in.  If  he 
hasn't  sense  enough  to  accept  a  refusal  that  has 
been  repeated  to  him  five  times,  snub  him  delib- 
erately and  systematically,  and  leave  no  room 
for  doubt  about  it.  His  persistency  is  as  hard 
ou  my  nerves  as  on  yours.  It  isn't  pleasant  to 
be  wakened  from  sleep  to  hear  you  sobbing  in 
your  dreams,  '  Oh,  Mr.  Norris.  I'm  so  sorry  ! '  I 
know  you  are  not  half  as  sorry  as  you  ought  to 
be,  considering  how  openly  you  encouraged  him, 
and  I  feel  like  shaking  you,  and  calling  him 
names." 

But  the  accused  n'as  out  of  hearing  by  this 
time,  and  tlie  accuser  relapsed  into  listening 
silence.  The  caller  proved  to  be  the  Rev.  An- 
drew Barton,  popular  young  minister  of  Grace 
Church ;  there  was  the  sound  of  Addie's  sprightly, 
informal  greeting  and  the  more  precise  though 
somewliat  efT'isive  one  in  deeper,  drawling  tones. 

"  lie  has  oorae  to  have  a  word  of  prayer  with 
her,"  remarl  od   Tlie  Great. 


^\^ 


m 


k^ 


1 1;  li 


*' T    wisb      !)«J!     wniililn'f. 


.1  a 


l.lTlfl       W 


\ih 


ill 


78     SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

increasing  apprehension,  "  I  know  liow  it  will 
end.  He  will  ask  her  to  come  out  and  see  the 
moon." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  danger.  Tlie  Rev.  Barton  will 
do  nothing  so  rash.  A  girl  like  Addie,  full  of 
amusing  whims  and  contradictions,  a  mixture  of 
tlie  sublime  and  ridiculous,  is  nothing  more  than 
an  interesting  problem  to  him.  He  is  attracted 
to  her  largely  fronu  interest  in  her  spiritual  wel- 
fare, and  because  of  her  undeveloped  possibilities. 
He-  told  me  as  much  one  Sunday  night  as  we 
walked  from  church." 

"  She  has  been  a  problem  to  half  a  dozen  men 
and  they  all  solved  her  in  the  same  way,  by 
concluding  that  she  was  the  one  being  Heaven 
had  created  for  theii-  special  benefit,"  said 
Grimes,  who  found  the  world's  ways  vastly 
amusing.  « I  am  glad  she  had  sense  enough  to 
realize  that  she  would  be  miserable  with  any 
one  of  them.  Why  should  she  think  of  mar- 
riage at  her  age  ?  Fancy  Addie  struggling  with 
the  reins  of  household  government !  Wouldn't 
they  get  into  a  queer  tangle  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  so,"  as?  nted  The  Wise,  "  but  we 
don't  want  two  old  maids  in  the  family." 

In  the  meantime  the  subj^^ct  of  these  random 
comments  was  convei*sing  in  a  highly  edifying 
manner  with  the  minister.  He  complimented 
her  upon  the  merits  of  certain  of  her  verses 


A  DAY  IN  CASTLE  BOHEMIA. 


79 


whicli  lie  liad  seen  in  print,  and  earnestly  im- 
pressed upon  her  the  advisability  of  dedicating 
lier  talents  to  noble  service.  He  spoke  humbly 
of  his  own  successes  in  the  ministry,  and  attri- 
buted them  to  entirety  of  faith  and  self-surrender. 

Hie  also  evinced  a  warm  interest  in  each  individ- 
ual member  of  the  family  and  finally,  as  he  was 
about  to  take  leave,  mildly  suggested  that  they 
should  be  summoned  into  his  presence  that  he 
might  have  the  privilege  of  praying  with  them. 
This  was  accordingly  done. 

They  entered  with  meek,  subdued  footsteps, 
Carrie  heading  the  procession  and  the  Seraph, 
with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  bringing  up  the 
rear.  The  good  man  prayed  long  and  fervently, 
and  was  in  the  midst  of  an  eloquent  petition 
which  was  far-reaching  in  its  comprehensiveness, 
including  the  whole  civilized  race,  when  Bobbie 
cautiously  opened  the  door  and  looked  in. 

The  situation  was  peculiarly  tempting;  the 
kneeling  figures  with  their  backs  turned  to  him, 
the  preacher  with  his  remote  look  of  spiritual 
exaltation. 

He  slipped  softly  into  the  room  and  looked 
about  in  quest  of  something  to  do.  The  Great 
had  left  his  paint-brushes  and  palette  on  a  table 
beside  his  easel,  and  Bobbie,  who  was  an  artist  in 
all  but  opportunity,  took  advantage  of  this  cir- 
cumstance.    He  dipped  a  brush  into  some  of  t-li© 


80     SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QUEVM  PEOPLE. 

mixture  and  glanced  aiound  the  room  in  search 
of  suitable  material  for  canvas.  Then  lie  spied 
the  round  bald  spot  on  the  preacher's  head  and 
rejoiced  inwardly ;  it  was  like  the  china  plaques 
which  Addie  painted  for  Christmas  gifts,  and  he 
went  to  work  at  it  without  further  loss  of  time. 

The  gentleman  moved  uneasily  under  the  fust 
stroke,  and  as  the  strange  sensation  continued, 
exhibited  great  discomfort  of  body  and  confu- 
sion of  mind.  Ho  concluded  that  a  party  of 
spidei-s  had  dropped  upon  his  head  and  mistiiken 
it  for  a  race-course.  Horrible  thought  to  a  man 
of  refined  sensibilities  !  There  was  nothing  to  be 
done  but  to  curtail  his  complex  rhetoric  and  make 
a  dash  for  tlie  closing  Amen,  with  the  little 
dignity  that  was  possible  under  such  distracting 
conditions. 

"  Lord,  bless  this  family  and  consecrate  their 
talents  to  Thy  service.  Help  us  all  to  be  good 
and  noble,  to  be  patient  under  trial,  to  follow 
after  justice  and  trutli,  to  be  kind  and  loving  to 
the  meanest' creatures  thou  hast  made,  and " 

A  loud  screani  interrupted  him.  Addie  had 
intercepted  Bobbie  in  the  act  of  emptying  a 
bottle  of  turpentine  upon  the  head  of  his  victim, 
and  now  bore  him  kicking  and  struggling  from 
the  room. 

"I  was  painting  hairs  on  the  gentlemanVs 
]iead,"  he  attested  lustily  in  self-defence,  "  and 


A  DAY  .  :  CASTLE  BOHEMIA. 


81 


the  paint  got  too  thick.  Can't  I  paint  liaii-s  on 
the  gentleman's  head,  where  the  real  ones  have 
come  out  ?  " 

There  was  a  moment's  embarrassed  silence  in 
the  library.  The  minister  coughed,  smoothed 
down  his  features  with  his  fingei-s,  and  in  a 
tone  of  deep  self-reprcich  hurriedly  concluded 
his  petition. 

"  Lord,  foigive  us  any  irreverence  of  which 
wo  are  involuntarily  guilty  in  Thy  presence. 
Amen,  amen." 

Though  his  instincts  of  piety  were  outraged, 
his  humor  was  tickled,  and  he  exhibited  a  spirit 
of  magnanimity  towards  the  delinquent  which 
was  creditable,  considering  the  provocation  he 
had  received. 

"  Poor  little  chap  I  "  he  said  kindly,  "  don't 
be  too  hard  on  him.  I've  no  doubt  that  his 
motive  was  good.  He  wished  to  improve  my 
appearance,  and  observing  a  particular  spot 
where  there  was  room  for  improvement — ha,  ha, 
don't  be  hard  on  the  little  fellow.  I  was  a  l)oy 
once  myself." 

Grimes  came  out  into  the  hall  with  stern 
resolve  written  upon  his  countenance.  It  was  he 
who  was  supposed  to  wield  tlie  rod  of  chastise- 
ment in  the  absence  of  King  William.  He  was 
of  a  cooler  temperament  and  steadier  nerve  than 


m 


»h 


i  Ij 


11 


82      SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QCEEIl  PEOPLE, 

in  certai.j  portions  of  liis  anatomy  without  becom- 
ing uncomfortably  warm  and  excited  liimsclf. 

"Where  is  he?"  lie  demanded  in  his  loudest 
parental  voice.     "Bring  him  to  me  I " 

"Will  you  give  him  the  strap?"  asked 
Seraph,  with  evident  intciest.  lie  rather  en- 
joyed seeing  this  youngster  in  the  grip  of 
justice. 

"  Strap  ?  No,  nor  ^the  birch  stick  either.  Get 
me  a  bed-slat."  But  Bobbie  was  nowhere  to 
be  seen,  though  they  sought  him  carefully  with 
seductive  threats. 

He  had  rushed  precipitately  into  Khoda's  bed- 
room and  crept  Tinder  the  bed. 

"Now, what  'rvvoyou  been  doin',you  precious 
hout-an'-h'o,  .  :•'  asked  the  housemaid  ten- 
derly. She  pi :  .;ated  a  novel  spectacle  of  rheu- 
matic disability.  Her  head  was  tied  up  in  a  shawl, 
and  a  quilt  was  wrapped  around  her  shmilders. 
But  the  malady  with  which  she  was  supposed  to 
be  afflicted  had  evidently  not  extended  to  her 
fingers,  for  she  was  inditing  a  long  letter  to  Joey. 

"  Paintin'  'airs  on  the  gentleman's  'eud  1 
Well,  I  never!  Gc^od  for  you,  Bobbie!  A 
spiteful,  unpolite  man  as  isn't  fit  to  be 
called  a  gentleman,  judgin'  by  aperiences  an' 
the  style  of  his  languish.  Oh,  I  'card  him,  I 
did,  though  little  did  he  think  it.  I  m  not  so 
bad  with  rheumatism  but  what  I  can  work  my 


*  1%4 


.1  DAY  IN  CASTLE  BOHEMIA. 


83 


way  to  tlif  top  of  tlie  stairs  when  liennythiii' 
lively  seems  to  be  goin'  on.  An  I  'earn  him 
say  right  li'out  as  bold  an'  Liashenas  you  please, 
'Elp  us  to  love  that  meanest  creatuio  the  'ouse- 
maid.'  I  was  as  mad  as  a  vt  '.  'an  for  very 
little  I'd  'ave  gone  down  just  im  an'  given 

him   a  piece   of   my  intellect.     I'd   'ave   said: 

"  IJeggin'  pardon  forbein'  out  of  sight  when  my 
name  is  took  in  vain.  I  don't  want  none  of  your 
lo\  nor  your  impidence  either.  What  do  you 
mean  by  talkin'  like  that  about  a  real  suspectable 
girl  who  never  did  nothing  to  you  ?  Mean  I 
maybe,  unknownst  to  myself  like  many  h'an- 
other  who  is  born  of  woman  an'  bruised  by  the 
serpent,  an'  'as  to  fight  the  lion  that  goes  roarin' 
about  like  Satan,  an'  keep  the  'eavenly  jail  in 
view.  But  to  call  me  the '  meanest',  that's  cappin' 
the  climax  with  a  cap  too  big  for  it.  It's  in- 
fl^ammation  of  character,  that's  what  it  is,  an'  as 
such  you  could  be  took  up  an'  put  through  the 
sentonce.  I  guess  that  would  'ave  settled 
him." 

Bobbie's  mind  wm  too  actively  exercised 
with  thoughts  of  the  impending  "  bed-slat "  to 
respond  appreciatively. 

"  Which  one  of  the  preachers  was  it,  Bob- 
bie?" she  asked,  after  a  moment's  wrathful 
contemplation  of  her  unmerited  injury.  "The 
old  one,  or  the  younij  colic  who  does  the  talkin' 


i>\ 


I  i 


MICROCOPY   RESOLUTION   TEST  CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


14. 

USA 
IM 


US 

u 

u 


■  4.0 


10 
1.8 


^    APPLIED  IM^GE    I, 


nc 


1653  East  Main  Street 

Rochester,   New  York        14609      USA 

(716)  482  -  0300  -  Phone 

(716)   288-5989  -Fax 


84     SAmTS,  SlNN^nS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

When  the  old  one  is  away  ?    They're  both  on  'em 
oaid  as  dodgers." 

"  The  young  one,"  replied  Bobbie  in  a  whisper. 
'Oh,  indeed!"  exclaimed  the  house-maid  with 

,   lofty  scorn.     "The   'andsome  gentleman  with 
the   mobile   mouth  an'  the    alkaline  nose,  ^ 

,  goes  by  tlie  name  of  *  Barton.'  Well,  if  h'ever 
I  saw  such  a  onconsistent  colic  of  the  gospel  I 
He  beggars  all  presca-iption,  as  Tlie  Great 
would  say.  I  may  be  a  'ouse-maid  an'  aperiently 
thats  what  I  am,  oil  the  outside,  but  inside 
1  m  just  the  same  as  any  h'other  suspectable 
person. 

"Just  the  same.  I  'ave  my  good  points 
an  my  bad  ones.  My  temper  is  unvariable 
like  other  folks's.  I  'ave  my  uprisings  an' 
downsittmgs,  maybe  I  rise  higher  'an  sit  down 
arder  than  some  folks.  I  can't  say  as  to 
that,  but  I  do  say  an'  I  will  say,  if  it  was 
to  be  my  last  word  this  side  the  river  Jordan 

an  the  lake  of  gnashin'  teeth  an'  brimstone,  that 
ousemaid  or  no  'ouse-maid,  I'm  just  the  same 

inside  as  any  preacher,  an'  it's  not  for  any  bald 
eaded  colic  to  call  me   *  the  meanest  creature' 

no  matter  what  he's  got  agin  the  general  run 

of  oune-maids,  of  which   I  am    one,   an'   not 

asliam,  d  of  it  neither. 

"But  man  is  born  green  as  the  grass  of  the  field, 

hke  the  grass  he  comes  up,  an'  like  the  grass  he 


A  DAY  IN  CASTLE  BOHEMIA. 


85 


sliould  be  cut,  so  says  the  Scriptures,  Bobbie, 
an'  there's  trutli  in  it.  There's  only  one  ex- 
ception to  that  Bible  rule.  Guess  who  it  is, 
there's  a  dear, — come  out  from  under  the  bed, 
nothin'  can  'urt  you  while  Rhoda  is  'ere — guess 
who  it  is." 

"Is  it  The  Great?"  asked  the  little  fellow, 
emerging  from  his  hiding-place. 

"  No,  it's  a  greater  than  The  Great,  in  my 
'umble  opinion,  as  shouldn't  be  so  bold  as  to 
say  it." 

"Is  it  Joe  Smith?" 

"  That's  who  it  is,  you  blessed  h'out-an'-h'outer. 
My  Joey,  as  stands  four  feet  eight  in  his  boots 
an'  calls  me  the  *queen  of  his  'eart.'  He  comes 
up  like  the  busy  bee  seekin'  sweets  he  may  de- 
vour, an'  goes  away  in  low  spirits ;  *cause  time 
is  so  short  when  we're  together  an'so  long  when 
we're  separate.  You're  goin',  are  you  ?  Well, 
take  care  of  yourself.  Come  and  tell  me  if 
there's  any  more  queer  'appenin's, ;  and  I  say, 
Bobbie,  tell  them  to  order  plum-puddin'  an' 
mince  turnovers  for  dinner.  Mince  meat  is  very 
conjestible  an'  a  sure  cure  for  rheumatism." 

Downstairs  the  conversation  was  resumed 
which  had  been  interrupted  by  the  arrival  of 
the  unfortunate  young  minister. 

"  What  is  idealization  ?  "  asked  Addie  "ten- 
tatively. 


86   SAINTS,  siNysiis  And  qxt^j^r  people. 

"  The  act  of  creating  beauty  and  using  it  to 
clotlie  the  souls  of  those  we  love.     We  all  have 
our  ideals,  our  standards  of  excellence,  no  matter 
how  faulty  we  may  be  ourselves,  and  this  ab- 
stract beauty  must  centre  itself  upon  some  human 
object  more  or  less  worthy  to  be  idealized,  or 
else  torture  us  forever  with  its  elusiveness.     It 
is  not  enough  to  know  that  such  perfection 
exists    somewhere    in   unattainable    particles; 
that  is  too  remote  aiid  unsatisfactoiy,  we  desiie 
to  make  it  a  part  of  ourselves  and  invest  our 
lives  with  some  of  its  reflected  splendor,  by 
intimate   contact."       T!>e   Great    was    always 
veiy  much  in  earnest  when  endeavoring  to  ex- 
pound   liis    crude    theories,   and    gesticulated 
eloquently  with  his  right  hand. 

"  I  should  think  that  intimate  contact  Avould 
dispel  the  illusion,  for  of  course  there  is  no 
such  thing  as  absolute  perfection,"  said  Grimes. 
"  That's  one  reason  why  I  would  rather  not 
marry.  I  am  afraid  that  some  of  my  pretty  ideas 
about  women  would  get  a  sad  shock  of  awaken- 
ing after  marriage.  I  would  rather  be  a  cheer- 
ful bachelor  kneeling  at  the  shrine  of  an  ideal 
woman,  than  a  cynical  benedict  burdened  with 
a  •small-minded,  gossiping  wifa." 

"  Wrappers  that  hang  loose  from  the  neck, 
and  a  trimming  of  curl-papers  on  a  woman's 


A  DAY  tN  CASTLE  hOItmttA. 


. 


^ 


forehead  would  finish  me,"   said  Seraph  so  sol- 
emnly that  they  all  lauglied  in  chorus. 

The  door-bell  rang  and  Addie  rose  instantly. 
A  slight,  Saxou-complexioned  young  gentle- 
man stepped  into  the  vestibule.     He  was  smartly 
dressed,  but  his  face  was  pale  and  agitated. 

"  Are  you  engaged,  Miss  Wilson  ?  "  he  asked 
with  nervous  formality. 

"No,  Mr.  Norris,  not  particularly,"  she  replied, 
wi^h  a  twinge  of  remorse  as  she  observed  tlie 
ravages  which  a  hopeless  affection  had  made  in 
his  once  glowing  countenance.  She  led  him 
into  one  of  the  small  parlors  and  attempted  to 
guide  him  cautiously  into  impersonal  discoui-se, 
but  he  resisted  manfully  and  closed  his  lips 
when  she  spoke  of  the  weather. 

"  I  came  because  I  was  so  lonely  and  wretched," 
he  burst  out  impetuously,  "  and  you  kilow  it  is 
soma  comfort  to  see  you  and  talk  to  you,  even 
though  you  d'>r't  care  anything  about  me." 

"  Don't  say  that,  Mr.  Norris.  You  know  I  do 
care  for  you  very  much  as  a  friend."  Her  bril- 
liant eyes  were  tarned  on  him  with  a  responsive 
sympathy  whicli  tended  to  aggravate  his  depres- 
sion. He  was  twenty-three  years  of  age,  and 
this  was  his  first  love-affair.  It  affected  him  so 
unhappily  that  he  was  physically  and  mentally 
unable  to  follow  his  usual  practical  pursuits. 
Solitude  goaded  him  to  madness,  and  his  only 


i 


(m 


* 


^8     SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLS. 

relief,  an  unsatisfactory  one  at  best,  was  found 
m  the  free  outpouring  of  his  misery  into  the  ears 
of  the  liard-li(iarted  cliarmer  who  liud  repeatedly 
declared  tliatshe  would  not  marry  him. 

"  Oh,  Addie !  You  don't  know  what  it  is  to 
suffer  as  I  do,  or  you  would  have  more  pity," 
he  said  brokenly,  looking  at  her  with  tear- 
dirame^'  eyes.  "  I  can't  sleep  or  eat  oi  think. 
There's  only  one  person  in  the  world  and  that's 
you.  I  see  and  hear  you  every  hour  of  the 
day.  I  can't  pretend  to  go  around  among  the 
boys  and  girls  as  I  used  to  do  and  enjoy  myself 
in  the  old  way.  Everything  is  changed— horri- 
bly changed.  I  seem  to  be  walking  alone,  in 
a  shadow." 

"I'm  so  sorry,  Dick,"  she  said,  her  voice  lin- 
gering on  hi^  Christian  name  which  sounded 
sweet  to  him  from  her  lips.  « Isn't  there  any 
cure  for  it  but  reciprocity  and  marriage  ?  "  she 
asked  with  unconscious  irony. 

"None  that  I  know,"  he  replied  dismally. 
"  It  gets  worse  all  the  time.  The  more  I  try 
to  escape  from  it  the  more  securely  it  binds  and 
hurts  me.  But  of  course  there's  no  use  in  trying 
to  explain  it  to  a  person  who  has  never  had  it." 

''You'll  get  over  it,"  she  said  soothingly, 
**  the  others  did,  all  accept  Arthur  Dean,  and 
he " 

"  I  don't  wish  to  hear  about  the  othera,**  he 


V 


A  DAT  IN  CASTLE  BOHEMIA. 


Bd 


0 


Interrupted  hoarsely.  "  Some  fellows  -^et  a  sutl- 
den  fancy  in  their  heads  and  call  it  love,  and 
they  forget  it  in  a  short  time,  but  I'm  not  like 
that,  I  wish  I  was." 

There  was  a  long  silence  between  them,  then 
Addie  said  briskly : 

"  Well,  you'll  stay  and  dine  with  us,  and  try 
to  be  cheerful?  It  makes  me  uncomfortable  to 
see  you  in  such  a  state  about  a  gay,  foolish  girl 
like  me." 

"  Gay  ?  Yes,  but  not  foolish.  Don't  try  to 
depreciate  yourself  in  my  eyes.  You  can't  do 
it.  Whether  you  love  me  or  not  you  must  always 
be  my  ideal  of  all  that  is  sweet  and  beautiful, 
tender  and  womanly." 

"  Oh,  dear !  "  she  exclaimed  mentally,  "  there 
it  is  again — the  extravagant  idealization  of  weak 
human  nature." 

"  But  I  may  as  well  stay  if  you  will  be  so 
kind  as  to  endure  my  depression.  I  have  noth- 
ing to  do  and  nowhere  to  go.  I  hate  all  kinds 
of  jollity.  I  can't  sit  alone  in  my  rooms  and 
brood.  It  makes  me  feel  like  committing 
suicide.  Oh,  Addie,  don't  you  think  you  could 
learn  to  love  me  a  little  ?  I'm  not  such  a  bad 
sort  of  a  fellow  and  my  heart  is  as  big  as  the 
ocean.  But  forgive  me  for  worrying  you  with 
my  troubles.  I'll  try  to  be  man  enough  to  bear 
them  in  silence." 


90   sAmrs,  siNirms  and  queer  people. 

At  this  critical  moment  so  full  of  dramatic 
possibilities,  the  noble  expression  of  liis  face 
was  lost  in  a  sudden  convulsion.  He  sneezed 
four  times  in  rapid  succession  and  struggled  with 
a  fit  of  coughing. 

Before  Addie  had  time  to  conjecture  as  to 
tlie  cause  of  tliis  singular  performance  slie  was 
overcome  by  a  similar  paroxysm  of  sneezino-, 
coughmg,  and  choking.  In  the  midst  of  it  the 
tears  started  to  hei^  eyes  and  rolled  down  her 
cheeks. 

He  was  by  her  side  in  an  instant  endeavoring 
to  calm  her  agitation. 

"You  are  crying,  Addie,"  he  said,  tenderly 
triumpliant.  "  Your  pity  is  akin  to  love.  You 
can't  disguise  your  ti-ue  feelings  any  longer. 
Your  emotion  betrays  you." 

"  It  isn't  emotion,"  slie  gasped,  struggling  for 
breath.     '^  I  think— I  tliink  it  is  pepper." 
"  Pepper  !  "  lie  repeated  blankly. 
"  Yes,  pepper  and  Bobbie ! "     Slie  opened  the 
door  quickly  and  there  stobd    Her  Majesty's 
Infant,  caught  in  the  act  of  blowing  red  pepper 
into  a  paper  funnel  which  was  inserted  in  the 
keyhole. 

Tliere  was  no  possibility  of  evading  the  law 
this  time.  Grimes  came  promptly  upon  the 
scene  and  marched  the  culprit  up  two  flights  of 
stairs  to  tlie  attic,  that  the  softening  effect  of 


A  DAY  IN  CASTLE  BOHEMIA, 


91 


distance  upon  bound,  might  prevent  the  suffer- 
ing  whicli  would  otherwise  accrue  to  the  nerves 
of  tlie  innocent.  From  this  lofty  locality  a 
peculiar  commotion  was  observed  to  emanate, 
resembling  the  beating  of  hail  and  rain  upon 
loose  shingles  to  the  accompaniment  of  wind 
squalls. 

During  the  afternoon  several  young  people 
dropped    in    unceremoniously,    greeting     the 
Wilsons  Avith  a  hearty,  voluble  cordiality  which 
was  far  removed  from  conventional  stiffness, and 
intimating   their   willingness    to   bestow  upon 
them  the  pleasure  of  their  compjiny  for  an  in- 
definite period,  at  least  for  the  remainder  of  the 
day.     Soon  the  home  party  included  a  large 
addition   of  informal  guests,   two  girl  cousins, 
and  a  maiden  aunt  whose  milk  of  human  kind- 
ness had  soured  in  thunder-storms  of  disappoint- 
ment, and  who  enjoyed  herself  in  her  sister's 
home  because  of  a  comfortable  conviction  that 
those  dreadful  children  were  rushing  headlong 
to  destruction,  and  that  their  fate   would  have 
been  different  if  William   Wilson  had  chosen 
her  for  his  helpmate  instead  of  "poor  delicate 
Victoria  ; "  also  Minerva  Berry,  the  confidential 
chum  of  Tlie  Wise,  Miss  Dobson,  a  pretty  girl 
who  was  suspected   of  entertaining   a  tender 
weakness  for  The    Great,  and  lastly  Mr.  Rod- 
erick Hilliard,  a  handsome,  blue-eyed  English- 


92     SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

man  who  liad  frankly  declared  that  the  Wilson 
family  was  the  only  ameliorating  circumstance 
which  reconciled  him  to  Canada.  He  said  the 
fHmily,  but  everybody  knew  that  he  meant 
/-  .(die. 

The  fraidcness  which  was  his  predominant 
quality  was  so  largely  blended  with  youthful 
simplicity  that  certain  young  men  about  town 
envious,  no  doubt.of  his  physical  dimensions, 
which  were  perfect,  took  pleasure  in  circulating 
the  impression  that  he  was  "  fresh." 

"  I  must  apologize  for  coming  on  my  own  in- 
vitation,"  he  said,  as  he  liung  his  cap  and  over- 
coat on  the  hat-rack,  «  but  really,  you  know, 
Miss  Wilson,  it's  so  awfully  jolly  h^re,  and  a 
tellow  gets  so  down-hearted  in  a  boarding-house 
Please  tell  me  that  I  am  welcome  and  that  you 
don't  think  I  am  an  awful  bore.  I'll  be  ever  so 
good  if  you'll  let  me  stay." 

Addie  received  him  with  gracious  words  and 
smiles,  and  conducted  him  into  the  drawina. 
room.  ° 

Mr.  Norris  accepted  his  presence  with  scorn- 
ful tolerance,  regarding  him  suspiciously  from 
the  corner  of  his  eye. 

They  all  remained  to  dinner  which,  thanks  to 
Riley's  catering  ability  and  the  services  of  two 
workmg-giils  who  had  been  called  in  at  the  last 
moment^  was  excellent  in  every  respect.   The  con- 


A  DAY  IN  CASTLE  liOllEMIA. 


93 


versatioii  as  usual  was  of  tliu  liveliest  dcscriptiou, 
full  of  briglit  iniaginatioii  aud  lepaitee,  thougli 
sometimes  rather   too  persohvi  to  be  in  good 

taste. 

• 

The  only  unsociable  persons  at  the  table 
were  Mr.  Norris  and  the  maiden  aunt.  The 
former  neither  ate  nor  talked,  and  eyed  the  com- 
pany with  a  sad,  patient  unresponsiveness,  as  if 
he  considered  it  a  misfortune  to  be  obliged  to 
witness  such  a  pitiable  display  of  frivolity,  in  a 
world  which  he  knew  to  bo  groaning  Avith  its 
weight  of  tragic  misery. 

The  maiden  aunt  made  a  hearty  meal  which 
was  :ione  the  less  agreeable  to  her  palate  be- 
cause of  the  mournful  liead-shakings  in  which 
she  felt  called  upon  to  indulge  from  time  to  time. 

Once  she  looked  thoughtfully  at  Mr.  Noriis 
who  sat  beside  her,  and  made  a  remark  apparently 
apropos  of  nothing. 

"  Oh,  the  wrecks  that  are  strewn  all  along  life's 
pathway ! " 

"  I  believe  you,"  he  replied,  "  I'm  one  of  them." 
*'  Miss  Wilson,  you  like  to  be  amused,  don't 
you  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Hilliard  glibly.     «  You  can 
appreciate  a  good  joke?  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  I  can,"  said  Addie.  «  There 
is  nothing  I  like  better  than  to  be  amused.  I 
go  about  sometimes  with  a  sense  of  positive  in- 
jury at  the  hands   of  m^  fellow-creatures,  b^- 


1 


'1* 


Ui 


94     SAINTS,  SINNMiS  AN  J)  QUEElt  PEOPLE. 

cause  tliey  will  persist  in  tail.ing  to  me  soberly 
and  seriously  when  I  want  to  ]>v3  annised.  Sad 
l)eoplo  can  amuse  mu  as  mucli  as  funny  ones  ; 
that  is,  if  they  are  extremely  and  unreasonably 
sad.  But  a  person  wlioso  manner  and  convei- 
sation  lack  lustre  between  tlie  two  extremes,  is 
apt  to  weary  me." 

"  Balderdash  !  "  said  the  maiden  aunt  under 
her  breath.  ■, 

"Don't  I"  entreated  Mr.  Norris  in  a  whisper. 
"  You  don't  understand  her." 

"  Well,  I  heard  a  capital  conundrum  lastniglit," 
resumed  young  Ililliard.  "I've  been  full  of  it 
all  day,  anticipating  the  pleasure  of  repeating  it 
to  you.  It  is  really  good,  you  know,  the  point 
is  so  clear  and  the  idea  so  amusing.  Yon  may 
have  lieard  it  before,  it  isn't  new,  I  believe,  but 
at  any  rate  I  am  glad  of  an  opportunity  of  con- 
vincing you  that  an  Englishman  can  see  a  joke 
and  appreciate  it  as  thoroughly  as  any- 
body." 

He  chuckled  to  himself  and  glanced  at  the  ex- 
pectant faces  of  his  audience  with  the  sly,  know- 
ing look  of  a  man  who  is  keeping  guard  over  a 
delightful  surprise.  Then  he  said  with  slow, 
deliberate  distinctness,  lingering  significantly 
on  each  word : 

"  Why  is  grim  death  like  a  tin  can  tied  to  a 
dog's  tail?" 


\ 


A  DAY  TN  CASTLE  BOtlEMlA. 


95 


I 


Tliey  considered  the  question  in  silence  for 
some  moments. 

"  Will  you  give  it  up?"  he  asked  laughingly. 

"  No,  never,"  replied  several  voices. 

"  I  think  I  have  the  answer,"  said  the  maiden 
aunt  quietly,  with  an  air  of  modest  deprecation 
of  her  own  astuteness.  "  Because  it  is  en- 
tailed." 

"Entailed,  Auntie,  what  does  that  mean?" 
asked  Addie. 

"It  ought  to  be  clear  enough,"  said  Mids 
Green  with  dignity.  "Death  was  entailed  upon 
our  race  by  the  fall  of  Adam.  I  am  sure  no 
better  answer  can  be  found.  I  don't  approve  of 
conundrums  myself,"  she  added,  in  a  monotone 
of  indifference. 

"  Tliat  isn't  the  answer,  is  it,  Mr.  Hilliard  ?  " 
asked  one  of  the  guests. 

"  No,  better  give  it  up.  The  answer  is — ha ! 
ha !  ha  !  — "  He  threw  himself  back  in  his 
chair  and  laughed  immoderately — "  ha  !  ha  ! 
ha  I  Because  it  is  tied  to  a  pup." 

"  I  don't  see  where  the  joke  comes  in,"  said 
Grimes. 

"  Nor  I,"  said  several  others  in  chorus. 

"  It's  tied  to  a  pup,  don't  you  understand  ?  " 
gasped  Hilliard,  going  off  into  another  con- 
vulsion. 

*»  That's  cjear  enough/'  returned  The  Great, 


93     SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

"but  vvhereia  lies  the  resemblance  between  the 
tin  can  and  grim  death  ?  " 

"  It  is  entailed,"  murmured  Miss  Green,  nod- 
ding her  head  sagaciously. 

Mr.  Hilliard  became  suddenly  sober,  and 
rubbed  his  liead  in  some  perplexity.  He  thouglit 
it  was  rather  hard  lines  to  be  asked  to  explain 
his  jokes,  though  he  was  constrained  to  admit 
that  there  was  an  elusive  abstruseness  about  this 
one  which  called  for  some  elucidation. 

"  Well,  well !  That's  queer,  isn't  it  ?  "  he  said 
in  a  baffled  tone.  "I  saw  the  point  quite 
clearly  last  night,  but  now " 

"Oh,  I've  got  it!"  exclaimed  Addie  and 
Seraph  simultaneously,  the  former  with  her 
quick  speech  came  out  ahead.  "  Because  it  is 
bound  to  a  cur.  Bound  to  occur !  Yes,  that  is 
good." 

Several  of  them  laughed,  but  rather  feebly,  the 
prolonged  strain  upon  tlieir  curiosity  having 
blunted  the  spontaneity  of  their  humorous  per- 
ception. Ml*.  Hilliard  made  no  pretence  of  tliat 
sort.  He  had  that  quelling  sense  of  the  inade- 
quacy of  laughter  which  comes  to  a  man  when 
he  has  been  so  unfortunate  as  to  laugh  in  the 
wrong  place. 

The  Great  had  not  been  so  delightfully  en- 
tertained for  a  long  time.  His  eyes  brimmed 
with  irrepressible  amusement. 


V 


I 
.f, 

I 


* 


I 


A  DAT  IN  CASTLE  BOHEMIA.  97 

"  Bravo,  Hilliard !  "  he  said,  slapping  the  crest- 
fallen young  fellow  on  the  back.  "  We  absolve 
you  from  the  verdict  of  obtuseness  in  the  matter 
of  a  joke.  We  go  even  farther  and  deny  that  it 
is  a  characteristic  of  your  countrymen.  It  is  a 
base  libel,  and  we  will  throw  it  back  between 
the  teeth  of  the  man  who  dares  to  utter  it  in  our 
presence.  Bravo,  I  say,  you  have  redeemed  the 
reputation  of  your  country." 

"  Thanks,  it's  awfully  kind  of  you  t.  ly  so," 
returned  Ililliai-d  brightening.  "  I'm  sorry  'l 
got  it  a  little  bit  mixed." 

"You did,  a  little  bit,"  murmured  The  Great, 
still  regarding  him  with  tender  admiration. 
"  It  rather  spoiled  the  effect,  you  know." 
"Not  at  all,  my  dear  fellow,  it  heightened  it 
immensely."  But  Miss  Green  was  not  satisfied, 
and  as  they  repaired  to  the  drawing-room  she 
made  a  stubborn  movement  of  her  lips,  address- 
ing nobody  in  particular. 

"My  interpretation  was   more   appropriate. 

The  reference  to  the  dog's  appendage " 

"  Sh  !  sh  !  Auntie.  Be  delicate,  be  proper ! " 
whispered  The  Great  who  happened  to  be  near 
her. 

She  gave  him  a  withering  glance  and  sniffed 
the  air  contemptuously. 

The  band-wagon  was  soon  in  full  blast. 
Grimes  played  on  the  violin,  The  Great  ams 
7 


98     SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

two  jovial  sailor  songs  to  his  own  accom- 
paniment  on  the  guitar,  Seraph  gave  a  dra- 
matic recitation,  and  the  two  sisters  performed 
brilliant  executions  on  the  piano.  Several  of 
the  guests  also  contributed  their  quota  to  the 
fund  of  entertainment,  but  Hilliard  could  not  bo 
pressed  into  service.  He  preferred  to  rest  on 
his  laurels  and  listen. 

By  some  instindtive  sympathy  Miss  Green  was 
attracted  to  Mr.  Norris,  and  made  him  the  un- 
willing recipient  of  her  mournful  confidences. 

"Not  one  of  those  children  knows  wliat  it  is 
to  be  trained,"  she  said,  with  excessive  emphasis. 

He  replied  that  he  did  not  see  that  they  were 
any  the  worse  for  that. 

"Tlie  worse!  They  are  ruined!  ruined! 
ruined  /  " 

The  shadow  of  a  smile  flitted  across  Dick's 
stoical  face.  Ah,  if  he  were  permitted  to  be- 
come one  of  the  family  by  marriage,  how  gladly 
would  he  participate  in  the  general  overthrow ! 

"If  Providence  had  decreed  that  I  should 
be  the  mother  of  a  family,"  she  continued,  "  I 
would  be  too  keenly  alive  to  my  responsibilities 
to  drag  out  my  existence  In  a  half  dying  state 
and  allow  my  children  to  spring  up  like  that 
scandalous  little  nigger  Topsy.  But  poor  dear 
Victoria  has  no  energy  or  ambition.  Wlien 
I  approach  her  on  the  subject,  she  throws  up  her 


A  DAY  IX  CASTLE  BOltEMtA. 


dd 


» 

r 

n 

i 

r 

« 

( 

hands  and  exclaims,  'Polly,  don't  come  near 
me  with  your  direful  prophecies,  you  aggravate 
my  worst  symptoms.  It  is  all  that  I  can  do  to 
keep  alive  when  surrounded  by  cheerful  com- 
pany.' 

"  Cruel  words  to  hear  from  an  only  sister,  Mr. 
Norris,  and  at  a  time  when  I  was  sacrificing 
my  own  feelings  on  the  family  altar.  But  the 
world  is  full  of  such  cruelty." 

Poor  Norris  sighed  heavily.  He  had  no  sym- 
pathy witli  her  grievance,  but  her  apparent  dis- 
content was  additional  evidence  to  him  that 
there  was  something  radically  wrong  in  the  con- 
stitution of  affairs.  But  he  was  too  much  ab- 
sorbed in  his  own  afflictions  to  find  suitable  words 
of  condolence.  He  made  a  wry  face  and  said 
with  lugubrious  cheerfulness : 

Death  will  put  an  end  to  it  all  some  time." 
Yes,  yes  !  "  murmured  Miss  Green,  adding 
as  if  seized  with  a  sudden  inspiration,  "  It  is 
entailed." 

"  Now  Miss  Wilson  will  sing  for  us,"  said  Mr. 
Hilliard,  "  You  will  favor  us,  I  am  sure  ?"  bend- 
ing over  her  in  an  attitude  of  gallant  supplica- 
tion. 

She  acquiesced  readily,  too  readily,  thought 
the  maiden  aunt,  who  soliloquized  audiblj^: 
*'  Girls  should  be  like  the  modest  violets,  hiding 
away,  hiding  away." 


u 


(( 


100  SAmri  sinners  and  queer  People. 

Addie  possessed  a  sweet,  sympathetic  soprano 
voice,  and  had  been  accustomed  to  sing  on  con- 
cert pL^tforms  since  she  was  twelve  years  old. 
Her  selections  on  this  occasion  were  "Mar- 
guerite," and  "Auld  Robin  Gray,"  and  she  did 
full  justice  to  the  pathetic  sentiment  of  these 
well-known  ballads. 

"Capital,  Mis^  Wilson  I"  exclaimed  the 
Englishmpn  when  she  had  finished.  «  You  must 
have  a  heart  to  be  able  to  sing  like  that." 

"  Have  you  been  tempted  to  doubt  that  fact  ?  " 
she  asked  coquettishly. 

"Well,  yes,  rather,  you  know,"  he  returned 
witli  his  usual  guileless  candor. 

"  Sing  something  of  your  own  composition, 
Miss  Wilson,"  requested  Mr.  Norris.  Music  of 
any  sort  jarred  horribly  on  his  suffering  senses, 
but  he  wasn't  going  to  allow  Milliard  to  have 
exclusive  control  of  the  situation. 

"I  have  a  little  song  here  which  I  composed 
this  morning,"  rejoined  Addie,  "but  I  must 
tell  you  before  I  sing  it  that  it  isn't  the  least 
bit  classical.  I  composed  the  tune  first,  and 
I  tliink  you'll  all  agree  with  me  that  it  isn't 
half  bad,  but  the  words  are  very  crude  and  lack- 
ing in  refinement.  You  see  my  muse  was 
cramped  by  the  necessity  of  shaping  the  verses 
to  fit  the  tune.  I  can  write  poetri/  when  I  like, 
but  this  is  trash  from  a  literary  point  of  view, . 


( 


A  DAY  IN  CASfLE  BOHEMIA. 


101 


(    j 


though  it  embodies  a  deplorable  truth.  It  is 
called  '  Come  out  and  see  the  Moon.'  I  should 
like  the  help  of  the  violin  and  guitar  in  the 
chorus.    It  is  in  the  key  of  €,  boys." 

Grimes  and  The  Great,  wlio  were  accus- 
tomed to  play  by  ear,  struck  the  right  chords 
on  their  instruments  and  told  her  to  go  ahead. 
She  settled  hei-self  at  the  piano  and  after  a  few 
lively  notes  of  prelude,  looked  dreamily  up  at 
tlie  ceiling  and  sang  the  following  sentimental 
ditty. 

The  strangest  thing  that  e'er  I  know  is  happening  all 

the  time, 
It  is  a  mixture  of  the  sweet,  the  tragic,  and  sublime  ; 
Oh,  scarce  a  week  goes  o'er  my  head  but  some  man  says 

to  me, 
In  tones  of  ardent  rapture  and  poetic  ecstacy, 
"  Come  out  and  see  the  moon." 

Chorus. 

The  moon,  the  moon,  the  silver  moon, 

She  shines  in  the  sky  above. 
But  well  I  know  that  the  Queen  of  Night 

Is  in  league  with  the  God  of  Love. 

I  look  upon  her  tranquil  face  as  oft  I've  done  before. 
And  while  I  gaze  my  escort  tries  to  teach  me  Cupid's 

lore ; 
The  moonshine  steals  into  his  biain  and  shimmers  on  his 

breath, 
He  vows  unless  I'll  maiTy  him,  he'll  woo  an  awful  death 


102  SAlYfs,  sm^mtS  ANb  QtTEEIi  PEOPm. 
I  love  the  beauties  of  the  night,  the  darkness  soft  and 

^""^  ^and  Wirr'^'''"'  ^"^""^^"^  ^^^'^  ™P«  ^^^  ^^1« 
I  love  earth's  drowsy  murmurs  and  the  star  bespangled 

•     ^"*  ^  why- *  '^^  ^^^^^"^  "''''''''  ^""^  ^""^^  *^'  ""^°° 
There's  danger  'neaththe  moon. 

I  am  a  shy  and  tiniid  maid,  and  shrink  from  Fate's 

firm  touch, 
rd  rather  never  love  at  all  than  love  a  man  too  much  • 

My  freedom  .s  a  priceless  boon,  from  which  I  dread  t'o 
part, 

And  so  I  fortify  my  will  and  bid  my  trembling  heart 
Resist  the  artful  moon. 

It  is  irapossible  to  describe  the  manner  of  the 
young  singer,  the  languisliing  sentimentality, 
naive  humor,  and  plaintive  appeal  which  spoke 
in  her  eyes,  voice,  and  every  attitude  of  her 
small  black  head,  which  was  tilted  siicrhtly  up- 
ward  from  her  slender  throat  like  the  head  of  a 
bird.  The  tune  was  exceedingly  pretty  and 
catchy,  and  when  the  boys  joined  their  voices  to 
the  ringing  timbre  of  violin  and  guitar  the  effect 
was  electrical. 

Mr.  Billiard  and  Mr.  Norris  were  uncomfort- 
ably self  conscious,  and  studiously  avoided  look- 
ing at  each  other,  or  meeting  the  eyes  of  any  of 
the  company.  The  former  was  so  fearful  lest 
his  natural   ingenuousness    should  betray  his 


* 


A  DAY  7i\r  CASTLE  BOHEMIA.  10^ 

State  of  mind,  that  he  turned  his  back  to  every- 
body and  gave  his  whole  attention  to  a  painting 
which  hung  on  the  wall. 

There  was  loud  applause  at  the  close  of  this 
audacious  performance,  but  the  maiden  aunt 
took  no  part  in  it.  She  covered  lier  face  with 
her  handkerchief  and  breathed  into  it  as  if  it 
were  a  phonograph : 

"  Oh,  Victoria !  Victoria  !  I  blush  for  the  fol- 
lies of  your  children." 

Mr.Norris  made  his  way  through  tlie  room  to 
the  side  of  the  piano,  and  leaning  over  it  fixed 
his  solemn  eyes  on  Addie  with  a  look  of  re- 
proach. 

"  Who  wants  to  deprive  you  of  your  freedom  ?  " 
he  asked  in  an  injured  tone. 

"  You  do,"  she  replied,  smiling  up  at  him. 

"  Oh,  no !  You  misunderstand  me.  There  is 
more  freedom  in  a  true  marriage  than " 

But  slie  waived  the  point  with  a  careless 
shrug  of  her  shoulders.  A  little  later  they  all 
dispersed,  promising  to  come  again  unexpectedly, 
and  carrying  away  with  them  the  assurance  that 
they  were  always  welcome  in  Castle  Bohemia. 

The  Great  laid  a  detaining  hand  on  young 
Hilliard  and  begged  of  him  not  to  forget  to 
bring  another  humorous  conundrum  or  anecdote 
with  him  next  time  he  came.     The  poor  fellow, 

who  was  alreadv  siiffp.n'no-  fii«  »^^^«i.«.„  „.v-'-i- 
./■    '*••'&   '^^"'j  pcii«,ii,y    wnioii 


104   SAiNtS,  8iNI^£:tiS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE, 

attaches  to  jokers,  laughed  and  blushed  as  he 
responded : 

"  I'll  do  my  best,  Wilson,  but  'pon  honor  it 
isn't  fair  to  expect  me  to  joke  all  the  time,  don't 
you  know." 

Norris  lingered  behind  the  others  and  was  tlie 
last  to  leave. 

"  I'll  not  ask  ybu  to  come  out  and  see  the 
moon,"  he  said,  after  holding  Addie's  hand 
longer  than  was  necessary  ar.d  gazing  at  her 
through  humid  mist.     "It  is  too  cold  to-night." 

After  the  boys  had  retired,  Addie  and  The 
Wise  held  a  serious  family  conclave  before  the 
open  fire  in  the  library.     The  elder  sister,  after 
enjoying  the  evening's  amusements  to  the  utmost 
was  experiencing  a  sudden  reaction.    She  was  un- 
accountably depressed.    Perhaps  the  sepulchral 
manner  of  Mr.  Norris,  who  regarded  himself  as 
the  hapless  victim  of  her  charms,  had  something 
to  do  with  it,  or  it  may  have  been  that  the  part- 
ing touch  of  her  aunt's  cold  finger  tips  had  trans- 
mitted some  chilly  forebodings,  or  again,  it  may 
have  been  that  she  had  a  secret  misgiving  as  to 
the  prudence  of  some  of  her  words  and  actions 
during  the  evening. 

She  was  frequently  a  prey  to  the  self-in- 
flicted torture  of  an  idealistic  mind  thwarted 
by  ungoverned  impulse.  She  had  no  desire 
to  be  just  like  other  people,  or  to  stifle  with- 


^1 


(i, 


i 


A  DAY  1^  CASTLE  BOHEMIA.  106 

in  herself  the  exhilarating  originality  which 
flowed  so  freely  in  her  veins.  Slie  liad  long 
since  decided  that  the  majority  of  liuman  be- 
ings were  dull  and  uninteresting,  a  burden  to 
themselves  and  to  others.  But  she  had  an  in- 
satiate desire  for  the  good  opinion  of  every 
one. 

Two  days  previous  a  dear  friend  had  informed 
her— it  is  always  our  dear  friends  who  tell 
us  such  things— that  she  was  considered  a 
heartless,  unscrupulous  flirt,  and  this  thought 
was  burning  in  her  breast  like  a  coal  of  fire. 

"Carrie,  there  must  be  a  change  in  this 
household,"  she  said  suddenly.  «  We  are  be- 
coming demoialized.  Luxury  and  laziness  are 
undermining  our  principles." 

"  Speak  for  yourself,  my  dear,  my  morals  and 
principles  are  as  sound  as  the  Arminian  doc- 
trine." 

The  Wise  liked  to  philosophize  comfort- 
ably. She  was  seated  at  a  small  table  drawn 
close  to  the  fire,  eating  thin  sliced  bread  and 
butter  with  onions  and  vinegar.  Such  a  diet 
would  not  have  been  permitted  by  Her  Majesty, 
who  had  a  singularly  susceptible  nose.  Prob- 
ably this  was  one  reason  why  her  youngest 
daughter  partook  of  the  impromptu  supper  with 
such  relish. 

"There  must  be  a  chano-fi  !  "  i-pn^af'^rl  A/i/i;^ 


m 


m 


106   SAII^fS,  SlNNJiHiS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

"  Do  you  know  1  have  almost  resolved  to  get 
marrietl." 

"  It  would  settle  you  certainly." 
"  That's  my  idea  exactly.      I   want    to   get 
settled.     I  am  beginning  to  weary  of  the  aim- 
lessness  of  my  life.     I  am  too  happy  and  com- 
fortable for  my  own  good.     If  I  were  obliged 

to  work  and  worrj^  a  little  bit,  for  instance " 

"  You  would  die." 

"  No,  I  would  rise  equal  to  emergencies,  and 
adapt  myself  to  hard  conditions  like  a— like  a 
man.     You  would  be  surprised." 

"  Surprised  ?    Well,  yes.    I  would  be  struck 
dumb  with  astonishment.     I  know  you  couldn't 
do  it.     Are   you  thinking  of  uniting  with  a 
laboring  man  who  earns  a  dollar  a  day?  " 
"  How  would  a  minister  do?" 
"  Addie  Wilson  !  "  exclaimed  The  Wise,  lift- 
ing her  hands  in  consternation.     «  Don't  dream 
of  such  a  thing.     Such  a  marriage  might  raise 
you  a  little  nearer  Heaven,  for  it  can't  be  easy 
to  be  a  sinner  when  the  other  half  of  you   is 
a  saint.      But  look  at  the  temporal  side  of  the 
question.     You  have  never  been  taught  to  econ- 
omize, you  don't  know  the  value  of  money,  you 
couldn't  keep  yourself  clothed  on  a  minister's 
salar^r,  you  would  be  out  at  elbows  and  toes— 
oh,  my  goodness,  never  mention  it  again." 
Addie  sighed  and  fell  into  reverie. 


:f 


A  DAY  IN  CASTLE  BOHEMIA. 


107 


There  was  a  long  silence.  The  clock  on  the 
mantel  ticked  drowsily.  The  fireliglit  flickered 
upon  two  pretty,  wistful  faces.  The  tlower- 
like,  pansy-eyed  countenance  of  The  Wise  wjis 
less  ethereal  than  it  had  been  upon  other  oc- 
ctisions,  owing  no  doubt  to  her  unpoetic  occupa- 
tion»  When  she  pushed  her  plate  back  a  few 
moments  later,  her  expression  was  angelic. 

"1  wonder  how  we  will  turn  out?"  said  Addie 
thoughtfully.  "  We  seem  to  be  such  a  queer 
family  in  some  ways.  Tlie  dear  old  dad  dotes 
on  us,  and  Her  Majesty  loves,  scolds,  and  prays 
for  us  as  mucli  as  her  health  will  permit,  but 
we  are  left  so  much  to  our  own  devices." 

"  Well,  no  matter  how  we  turn  out,  one  thing 
is  sure,  we  will  always  love  one  another  forever 
and  forever." 

They  kissed  in  silence,  and  walked  upstairs, 
with  their  arms  around  each  other. 


'  1 1 


I; 


NANNY. 


The  Baxtei-s  were  thoroughly  Canadian  by 
birth  and  environment.     The  wliole  eou,>.e  of 
their  quiet,  uneventful  lives  had  transpired  in 
Uiu.    10,  though  not  always  in  one  section  of  it 
To  them,  Canada  formed  the  largest  portion  of 
the  n,ap  of  the  world;  it  was  the  main  pivot 
whiel,  held  together  other  peoples  and  countries 
of  the  globe  which  ^yere  as  remote  as  the  stars. 
It  never  occurred  to  them  to  seek  to  better  them- 
selves by  allying  their  interests  with  any  other 
country,  though  the  one  of  their  nativity  and 
preference  had  failed  to  lift  them  out  of  the 
grinding  mill  ot  jDoverty. 

When  Manitoba  was  booming  financially  and 
advertising  its  unlimited  possibilities  to  a  credu- 
lous, awe-struck  world,  there  was  a  tidal  wave 
of  emigration  thither,  in  the  vicinity  where  the 
Baxters  livea,  but  tb.y  observed  it  indifferently, 
bidding  good-bye  to  l^n^n  and  neighbors  with' 
out  one  particle  ot  m  ^re  to  follow  their  ex- 


NANNY, 


109 


ample.  In  tlicir  views  and  metliocls  of  life  tliey 
were  strictly  conservative. 

John  Baxter,  the  head  of  the  liousehold,  was 
a  carpenter  o.i  a  small  scale,  but  by  no  means  an 
expert  at  his  trade,  lie  was  apt  to  be  slow  and 
heavy  in  his  movements— the  result,  no  doubt, 
of  a  lethargic  temperament  and  a  cumbersome 
equipment  of  flesh. 

lie  had  a  stuffy  little  workshop  adjoining  his 
house,  where  lie  was  supposed  to  receive  orders 
for  odd  jobs  of  a  specific  nature,  but  as  his 
prices  were  exorbitantly  higli,  and  the  length  of 
time  required  for  these  manual  feats  incredibly 
long,  his  customers  were  not  numerous,  and  lliey 
did  not  liesitate  to  speak  disparagingly  of  his 
shambling  methods  of  business,  when  opportu- 
nity presented  itself. 

Yet  his  mind,  though  it  had  been  accustomed 
to  work  in  narrow  grooves,  was  not  as  slow  as 
his  body.  In  some  ways,  where  physical  exer- 
tion was  not  demanded  of  liim,  he  could  display 
marked  resolution  and  prompt  activity,  which 
V  ould  leave  many  a  shrewd  merchant  with  a  fat 
bank  account  gasping  for  breath.  Indeed,  his 
stern  immovability  in  matters  of  opinion,  wheth- 
er relating  to  innovations  of  the  Town  Coun- 
cil, politics,  creeds,  or  morals,  was  so  well  known 
by  his  neiglibors  and  fellow  workmen,  that  it 
gave  him  a  sort  of  prestige  among  them,  and  it 


no    SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE,  ' 

was  not  uncommon  for  them  to  remark  in  refer- 
ence to  liim  : 

"  You  can't  budge  Baxter  when  his  mind  is 
made  up.  No  mule  tlnit  ever  lived  can  be  so 
all-fired  stubborn  as  lie  can,  when  he  takes  the 
notion." 

Judging  from  all  accounts  detailed  by  author- 
ities  of  unquestionable  veracity,  he  took  this 
"notion  "  rather  frequently,  and  was  generally 
to  be  found  on  tlie  opposite  side  of  any  argu- 
ment which  received  the  affirmative  convictions 
of  the  majority.     But  as  he  was  a  devout  church- 
membei-,  with  correct  and  rigid  views  of  man's 
moral  lesponsibility,  his  opinions  always  carried 
weight,  and  so  far  from  condemning  his  per- 
verse ways,  people  were  more  inclined  to  speak 
of  them  with  a  touch  of  respectful  admiration. 

He  made  long  prayers  at  the  Wednesday  night 
meetings,  in  a  loud,  pompous  voice  that  had  at 
times  a  querulous  undertone,  as  if  he  had  some 
fault  to  find  with  the  Lord  which  he  could  not  • 
adequately  express  in  words,  but  which  prevent- 
ed him  from  speaking  as  cheerfully  as  he  would 
otherwise  like  to  do. 

Humanity  of  the  most  abject  description  was  a 
characteristic  feature  of  these  petitions.  "  Poor 
miserable  sinners ;  worms  of  the  dust,  unwor- 
thy even  to  lift  our  eyes,"  were  favorite  phases 
in  his  vocabulary  of  devout  language.    No  one 


'Id 


<i 


NANNY. 


Ill 


had  ever  accused  him  of  being  a  hypocrite  ;  to 
do  him  justice,  he  was  honest  and  sincere,  and 
his  views  differed  from  those  of  other  people 
not  from  any  innate  muleishness,  but  because, 
with  self-complacent  egotism,  he  invariably  be- 
lieved that  he  was  right. 

Mrs.  Baxter  was  not  so  well  known  as  her 
larger  half.  She  was  a  reticent  little  woman 
who  stayed  quietly  at  home,  occupying  her  time 
with  the  manifold  cares  of  housework  and 
motherhood,  of  which  she  had  more  than  an  or- 
dinary sliare.  Her  neighbors  found  it  difficult 
to  get  acquainted  with  her,  and  as  a  rule,  aban- 
doned tlic  project  after  a  few  unsuccessful  at- 
tempts. 

There  was  not  a  few  of  both  sexes  who  cher- 
ished the  susj)icion  tliat  she  was  undeserving  of 
an  alliance  with  a  man  of  John  Baxter's  noble 
character,  and  they  wondered  if  it  were  not  a 
great  grief  to  him  that  she  did  not  interest  her- 
self more  conspicuously  in  church  affaii-s.     True, 
she  attended  service    regularly    enough  when 
her  health  and  the  weather  permitted,  but  no 
one  had  ever  heard  her  make  an  audible  prayer 
or  relate  a  religious  experience.     So  it  was  small 
wonder  that  those  who  interested  themsel\^es  in 
her  spiritual  concerns,  were  at  a  loss  to  know 
how  to  place  her. 
The  Baxters  were  a  poor  family,  obliged  tp 


li 


m 


m 
)?i"i 


fcl  i 


I 


112    SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

Stint  and  economize  at  every  turn.     The  jjrob- 
lem  of  how  to  keep  the  six  little  Baxters  re- 
spectably clothed  for  school,  without  incurring 
debt,  was  by  no  means  an  easy  solution .     Nanny, 
the  eldest,  a  pretty,  bright  girl,  strikingly  su- 
perior in  every  way  to  her  sordid  surroundings, 
was  obliged,  by  imi^ecunious  circumstances,  to 
forego  further  educational  advantages,  and  be- 
come apprenticed  to  a  dressmaker  at  the  tender 
age  of  fifteen ;  and  a  year  later,  the  greatest 
trouble  and  misfortune  that  could  possibly  have 
happened  to  any  family,  high  or  low  in   social 
sfjliere,  shed  its  baneful  gloom  over  the  Baxters. 
Nanny  supplied  one  more  record  in  the  world's 
history  of  tlie  old,  old  story  of  man's  delibeiate 
wiles,  and  woman's  weak  credulity,  by  elo2)ing 
witli  a  gay  commercial  traveller  who  had  amused 
himself,  by  passing  as  a  single  gentleman,  wlien 
it  was  well  known  in  masculine  circles  that  he 
had  a  legally  wedded  wife.     The  scandal  was 
discussed,  ventilated,  and  magnified  by  scores 
of  eager  tongues. 

Everybody  had  something  to  say  about  it; 
some  condemned  the  mother  for  not  guarding 
the  ^iii  more  closely,  though  tliere  was  no  pos- 
sible proof  that  she  had  been  lax  in  this  respect ; 
others  said  that  it  Avas  a  strange  dispensation 
of  Providence  that  this  misfortune  should  fall 
to  tlie  lot  of  a  righteous  man  like  Baxter,  but; 


■■*« 


)  s' 


t 


li 


i  u 


NANNY. 


113 


f  1 


t 

* 


amidst  all  the  various  opinions,  the  exaggerated 
statements,  the  calumny  and  reproach,  there 
was  a  general  and  predominating  sentiment  of 
sympathy  for  the  stricken  family. 

Only  one  woman  had  been  heard  to  say,  "  that 
it  would  take  some  of  the  pride  out  of  the  stuck- 
up  Mrs.  Baxter;"  only  one  man  was  mean 
enougli  to  express  the  conviction  that  it  "  served 
Baxter  right  for  his  pig-headedness,  guessed  he 
wouldn't  be  so  high  and  mighty  after  this." 

Ills  fellow-workmen  all  agreed  that  Baxter 
was  hard  hit ;  and  that  the  chances  were  that 
he  would  never  hold  up  his  head  again.  The 
prophecy  gained  in  likeliliood  by  his  subsequent 
conduct. 

He  had  never  been  jovial,  but  now  he  seldom 
talked  more  than  was  actually  necessary.  In- 
stead of  the  long  argumentative  discourses  he 
was  apt  to  indulge  in  with  certain  of  his  congen- 
ial cronies,  he  had  only  curt  replies  and  stilted, 
commonplace  remarks  about  such  indifferent 
topics  as  the  crops  and  the  weather.  In  one 
or  two  rare  instances,  however,  he  broke  through 
the  barriers  of  liis  reserve,  and  talked  and  lament- 
ed about  the  "bitter  disgrace"  as  he  called  it. 

It  got  whispered  around,  somehow,  that  the  day 

after  Nanny  eloped,  leaving  the  letter  on  the 

table  which  said  that  she  was  going  away  with 

the  man  she  loved,  and  hoped  he  would  marry 
8  V 


i 


S'.Jlil 


i 

M 


114     SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

her,  Jolm  Baxter  had  laid  liis  head  on  the  coun- 
ter of  Joe  Beamster's  harness  shop  and  cried  like 
a  baby.  It  was  understood  in  a  general  way 
that  lie  sorrowed  thus  deeply  more  for  the  blot 
upon  the  hitherto  unblemished  family  name, 
than  for  any  specific  regrets  about  Naimy ; 
though  it  was  surmised  that  he  had  a  fair  share 
of  parental  affection,  and  cared  for  this  incon- 
siderate prodigal  as  much  as  it  was  in  his  power 
to  care  for  any  one. 

As  for  the  mother,  she  never  opened  her  lips 
on  the  subject ;  no  one  had  ever  seen  her  shed 
a  tear,  or  heard  her  heave  a  sigli.  She  went  on 
steadily  with  her  work  from  day  to  day,  with  a 
hard-set  face,  and  was  almost  rude  in  her  treat- 
ment of  her  neighbors  who  came  with  a  vague 
idea  of  trying  to  sympathize. 

They  being  ever  ready  to  judge  from  the  ex- 
terior, and  not  sufficiently  versed  in  the  strange 
disguises  of  emotion  to  penetrate  her  mask,  went 
away  saying  hard  things  of  her.  How  could 
they  know  that  every  word  rising  up  with  steely 
precision  from  their  own  untroubled  hearts, 
reacted  on  Mrs.  Baxter's  acute  sensitiveness 
like  the  sharp  edge  of  a  knife,  turning  in  an  open 
wound. 

It  is  seldom  that  a  practical,  unimaginative 
people  can  express  sympatliy  acceptably  and  witli 
a  genuine   ring   of  sincerity,  in   reference   to 


3" 


NANNY. 


115 


troubles  which  have  never  invaded  the  precincts 
of  their  own  lives.  Their  utterances  at  such 
times  are  characterized  by  an  obtuseness  and  an 
utter  hick  of  comprehension  that  are  painful  to 
tlie  sufferers,  rather  than  cheering;  and  perhaps 
none  of  their  impulses  in  this  direction  are  so 
completely  a  failure  as  the  hackneyed  venerable 
plirases  they  employ  to  induce  a  spirit  of  resig- 
nation. 

It  was  the  last  day  of  the  old  year,  and  Mrs. 
Baxter  moved  back  and  fortli  in  her  kitchen 
completing  lier  culinary  preparations  for  the 
morrow.  These  were  not  extensive,  but  such 
as  befitted  the  moderate  financial  status  of  the 
household.  She  had  been  stuffing  a  turkey,  and 
the  air  was  still  odorous  Avith  the  smell  of  singed 
feathers.  A  saucepan  of  stewed  cranberries  was 
cooling  on  the  table,  and  there  would  be  the 
remainder  of  the  Christmas  plum-pudding,  to 
give  a  finishing  touch  to  the  meal. 

She  was  a  woman  of  short  stature  and  trim, 
spare  figure.  Her  eyes  were  undoubtedly  the 
feature  that  would  at  first  attract  a  casual  ob- 
server, perhaps  the  only  item  of  lier  appearance 
worthy  of  any  attention.  They  were  not  pret- 
ty or  bright,  they  were  not  even  youthful,  they 
were  set  back  deeply  beneath  the  broad,  over- 
arching temples,  and  circled  by  a  finely-wrought 
network  of  wrinkles;  but  their  expression  was 


*¥.. 


it 


■fifi 

I 


''f.lll 


hMi!. 


1 


116    SAINTS,  SINNEHS  AND  QtT^Eti  PEOPLE. 

singularly  impressive.  They  shone  steadily 
with  a  light  of  patience  and  faith  from  their 
luminous  dark  depths,  and  at  times  they  liad  a 
look  of  intense  pathos,  as  if  the  soul  that  irradi- 
^  ated  them  was  tacitly  asking  some  serious  ques- 
tion, and  1,,..  bing  in  vain  for  a  satisfactory 
answer. 

She  was  neatly  attired  in  a  dark  woollen  house- 
dress  protected  from  uncleanly  contact  by  a  wliite 
apron ;  the  old-fashioned  basque  with  its  long 
shoulder  seams  and  narrow  coat  sleeves,  buttoned 
tight  and  snug  across  lier  flat  chest,  showed  a 
rim  of  linen  collar  at  the  throat,  and  the  skirt, 
which  was  evidently  cut  on  the  most  econ- 
omic  pattern,  was  of  short  length  and  scanty 
breadth. 

It  was  her  nature  to  be  brisk  at  her  work; 
she  was  of  that  wiry,  active  constitution  which 
is  productive  of  speed,  but  to-day  her  step  was 
heavy  and  she  moved  about  somewhat  slowly 
from  stove  to  table  and  from  table  to  pantry, 
restoring  to  their  proper  places  the  various  cook- 
ing utensils  that  had  been  in  recent  use.     Fi- 
nally, when  immaculate  order  was  re-established, 
she  took  her  roll  of  knitting  from  ashelf  and  sit- 
ting down  in  a  straight-backed  chair  beside  tlie 
window,  started  another  round  on  John's  sock. 
But  she  was  restless  and  unhappy,  and  her 
mind  would  not  settle  to  this  housewifely  occu- 


kANNV. 


117 


pation,  but  persisted  in  taking  a  circuitous 
but  not  unfamiliar  path  of  its  own.  Very  soon 
the  needles  were  idle  and  Mrs.  Baxter  looked 
aimlessly  out  of  the  window,  with  her  laige,  pa- 
thetic eyes  absorbing  with  semi-consciousness  the 
outlines  of  the  landscape. 

The  children  were  running  wild  in  the  front 
yard,  shouting  and  snow-balling  one  another, 
and  otherwise  displaying  a  huge  capacity  for 
enjoyment  in  spite  of  the  sharp  frost  in  the  air, 
against  which  they  were  poorly  protected  in  the 
way  of  clothing.  The  echoes  of  their  laughter 
filled  the  room  and  lingered  around  her  as  if  to 
tempt  lier  sad  spiiit  into  buoyancy,  and  lure  her 
shrouded  fancies  into  brighter  paths.  But  her 
glance  turned  wearily  from  the  merry  romping 
crowd.  She  could  not  be  cheerful,  nor  even  re- 
signed. 

The  mother  heart  which  lay  so  heavy  in 
her  bosom,  and  which,  because  of  her  unde- 
monstrative temperament,  had  never  found  full 
vent  in  words,  was  crying  out  now,  hungrily, 
mightily  for  Nanny— Nanny,  the  precious  first- 
born, whose  first  faint  wail  had  been  sweetest 
music  to  her  ears  in  that  supreme  moment  of 
physical  weakness  and  conscious  motherhood ; 
Nanny,  the  fairest  and  brightest  of  them  all, 
whose  cunning  tricks  and  speeches  in  the  period 
of  her  infancy  had  been  applauded  to  the  echo, 


I 


m 


'!  _  [f r 


1  i 

Si      <t     (I 

'h-nl 


118    SAINTS,  SmmM  AND  QU^M  PSOPLE. 

nnd  in  whose  gradually  developing  possibilities 
her  hopes  liad  fondly  centred. 

There  Wiis  a  rap  at  the  door,  and  laying  her 
knitting  aside,  Mis.  Baxter  rose  to  open  it.  A 
tall  woman  stood  on  the  threshold  with  a  shawl 
over  lier  head. 

"  I  just  ran  over  to  wish  you  a  happy  New 
Year,"  she  said,  in  a  cordial,  hearty  Avay,  "  and 
to  ask  if  you  could  lend  me  a  handful  of  cur- 
rants. My  Christmas 'pudding  is  all  eaten  up, 
and  I  s'pose  I've  got  to  make  another  for  to-mor- 
row or  there'll  be  a  row.  Jim  is  awful  fond  of  it. 
He  has  gone  up  the  line,  won't  be  home  till  late, 
and  the  stores  will  be  closed  and  I  haven't  got 
enough  currants,  so  there  I  am,  you  see." 

She  laughed  as  she  entered  the  room  and  threw 
back  her  shawl.  She  was  a  fleshy  woman,  wliose 
countenance  was  not  remarkable  for  anything 
but  an  easy-going,  equable  temper. 

"  You  may  have  the  currants  and  Avelcome, 
Mrs.  Perkins,"  was  the  reply.  "  I've  a  jar  full 
in  the  pantry  washed  and  ready  for  use  ;  I  like 
to  have  them  that  way,  it  saves  time  when 
you're  in  a  hurry." 

"  So  it  is,  I  never  thought  of  that ;  cleaning 
raisins  and  currants  is  a  dirty,  tiresome  job,  ain't 
it  ?  I  declare  I  often  feel  like  throwing  them 
into  the  dish— stems,  seeds,  sand,  and  all. 
Thanks,  that's  more  than  I  need,  but  I'll  return 


^A^Nr. 


lid 


them  in  a  few  days.'^  She  took  tlie  well-fiUed 
paper  bag  but  made  no  movement  of  departure. 
She  sat  looking  witli  an  expiession  of  blended 
kindliness  and  cuiiosity  at  Mrs.  Baxter,  who 
had  resumed  her  knitting  in  silence. 

"  How  are  you  keeping  yourself,  Mrs.  Baxter 
pretty  well?"  slio  asked,  in  that  elevated  voice 
which  unrefined  people  assume  when  anxious  to 
appear  extremely  friendly.  Mi-s.  Perkins  had 
been  a  country  school  teacher  in  her  early  days 
and  a  high  key  came  natural  to  her.  "  I  was 
just  saying  to  Jim  the  other  day  that  you've 
been  looking  a  little  peaked  this  Avintei-,  and  sort 
of  down-spirited.  I  don't  wonder  at  it  either 
for  you've  had  a  sight  of  trouble  ;  but  land,  it 
never  does  a  mite  of  good  to  sit  and  fret !  If  I 
were  you  I  would  chirp  up  a  bit." 

Mrs.  Baxter's  pale  face  became  tremulous  ; 
her  mouth  twitched  nervously. 

«  Yes,  I  have  had  trouble,"  she  replied  quietly, 
but  with  a  forced  intonation,  as  if  speech  were 
difficult. 

«  Haven't  heard  from  Nanny  yet,  I  suppose !  " 
queried  the  neighbor,  actuated  by  a  really  laud- 
able desire  to  say  something  comforting  to  this 
odd,  sphinx-like  woman. 

"  No,  I  haven't  heard  from  her,"  she  said  in  a 
quick,  spasmodic  voice.  «  I  don't  know  where 
she  is." 


4 


In 


II 

i  w^H 

-|{  if^^^^l 

1  m^M 

1^1  ^^1 

^  ■ 

^H^na^^^^H 

% 

l  BHI^H^^^^^I 

■ 

^IMH 

^^1 

UM 

i2d 


(I 


SAINTS,  SINNEJtS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

Think  iliat  man  woukl  stay  aloiig  with  lier 
and  take  care  of  her?  Guess  he  couldn't  do 
that,  tliough,  if  lie  had  a  real  wife  living." 

" '  Tain't  likely  he  would,"  responded  the 
mother  sadly,  with  a  slightly  bitter  accent,  «  and 
It  wouldn't  make  things  any  better  if  he  did. 
He  is  more  devil  than  man  or  he  wouldn't  have 
done  as  he  did  in  the  first  place ;  that's  my 
opinion."  She  kept  on  knitting  with  lowered 
eyelids,  the  lines  o'f  her  firm  mouth  growing 
more  tense. 

"  Well,  it  does  seem  kind  of  hard,"  said  Mrs 
Perkins.   "  It's  just  as  I  said  to  Jim.     You  might 
expect  the  children  of  wicked  parents  to  go 
astray,  and  it  would  only  be  natural  if  they  did  ; 
but  when  it  comes  to  children  brought  up  like 
yours  with  Christian  advantages  and  your  lius- 
band  being  such  a  pillar  of  the  church  and  all- 
why  it  does  seem  kind  of  hard  ;  makes  a  body 
feel  as  if  the  dealings  of  Providence  ain't  quite 
just  and  fair,  tliough  maybe  it's  a  sin  to  say  so." 
"  Don't  credit  it  to  Providence,"  said  Mrs. 
Baxter    huskily,     without     lifting    her    eyes, 
*'  there's  a  heap  sight  of  blame  laid  to  Providence, 
Pm  thinking,  that  ought  to  lie  at  our  own  doors." 
"But  you  treated   that  girl  well;  you   did 
your  duty  by  her." 

«  Well,  I  tried  to  be  good  to  her,"  she  faltered, 
«  but  I  might  have  been  better.    I  was  too  much 


kAlfN?. 


121 


taken  up  with  tlie  liousework  and  the  smaller 
chiklren.  Theie\s  lots  to  be  done  wl.eie  there's 
only  one  pair  of  hands  to  do  it,  and  J  didn't  take 
time  to  be  sociable  with  Nanny.  I  guess  she 
got  lonesome  sometimes.  I  do.i't  think  a  mother 
ought  to  have  so  much  to  do.  I  was  rather 
sharp  with  her  too ;  I've  been  thinking  that  I 
should  have  taken  different  ways  with  her,  but 
it's  too  late  now."  Her  voice  broke  and  one 
large  tear  coursed  slowly  down  her  cheek. 

"  My  land,  but  she  was  a  pretty  girl ! "  said 
Mi-s.  Perkins  musingly,  not  appearing  to  notice 
these  ^evidences  of  emotion.  "  Me  and  Jim  used 
to  look  out  after  her  as  she  passed  the  house, 
with  her  yellow  hair  flying  and  her  cheeks  the' 
color  of  ripe  peaches,  and  we  used  to  say  to 
ourselves  that  you  would  have  your  hands  full 
looking  after  her  as  she  got  older." 

"  Yes,  she  was  pretty,"  acquiesced  the  mother 
in  a  lifeless  tone.  This  was  no  longer  something 
to  be  proud  of,  but  rather  an  undesirable  fact  to 
be  accepted  with  resignation. 

"  Isn't  it  just  a  caution  how  many  good-look- 
ing people  go  wrong?  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Perkins, 
with  the  air  of  propounding  an  origjial  and  in- 
teresting idea.  «  I  declare  it  beats  everything. 
I  was  just  saying  to  Jim  the  other  day  wheji  he 
was  making  fun  of  our  Nell's  big  mouth  and 
freckles,  that  it's  a  blessing  nowadays,  in  more 


122    SAmTf,  STNNJCnfi  Al^D  QtrEETt  PEOPLE, 

ways  tliaii  one,  to  be  born  ugly.  It's  a  soil  of 
graranteo  of  good  behavior.  Well,  that's  one 
thing  I  am  thankful  for,  that  if  my  cliildreu 
ain't  much  on  looks  they  know  liow  to  behave 
themselves.  Nell  is  just  as  steady  and  sensible 
as  an  old  woman." 

Mrs.  Baxter  drew  in  her  breatli  sharply  with 
an  almost  imperceptible  gesture  of  pain  ;  there 
was   that  in  her  neighbor's  voice— a  matronly 
triumph  which,  though  devoid  of  any  hint  of 
malice,  was  at  the  present  moment  unbearable. 
"  No,"  pursued  the  other  reflectively,  as  she 
readjusted  her  shawl  over  her  head,  "  I  don't 
expect  she'll  give  me  any  trouble  or  the  others 
either  for  that  matter.    We  haven't  much  money, 
and  the  furniture   begins  to  look  pretty  well 
scuffed  out  at  our  house,  but,  as  I  say  to  Jim, 
we  may  hope  to  take  a  little  comfort  out  of  our 
family  by  and  by,  and  that's  one  of  the  most  im- 
portant things  of  life   when  you're   married." 
She  rose  now  saying  that  it  must  be  near  tea- 
time  and  the  young  ones  would  be  hungry. 

Mrs.  Baxter  followed  lier  to  the  door."  Her 
face  was  quivering,  she  appeared  to  be  strug- 
gling for  the  mastery  of  an  emotion  which  she 
judged  to  be  unworthy  of  her. 

She  cleared  her  throat  with  a  short  dry  cough 
and,  drawing  her  small  figure  up  to  its  full 
height,  said  with  oracular  emphasis : 


NANNY. 


128 


"'Let  him  that  thiukcth  he  standeth,  take 
heed  lest  lie  fall ; '  that's  Scripture  language, 
Mrs.  Perkins,  and  people  would  do  well  to  re- 
member it.  You've  no  call  to  crow  over  me ; 
you'i-e  not  out  of  the  bush,  so  don't  lioller.  You 
haven't  brouglit  up  your  family  yet,  and  you 
may  think  you  are  doing  all  right  and  for  the 
best  and  fail  as  I  did  Avith— with  Nanny."  She 
broke  down,  weeping  stealthily  at  first,  but  more 
audibly  as  tlie  pent-up  fountains  of  grief  leaped 
their  barriei-s  and  surged  over  her. 

"  My  land !  Mrs.  Baxtei-,  don't  take  on  like 
that,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Perkins.  "  I  didn't  mean 
to  offend  you,  I  am  sure ;  I  am  really  sorry  for 
you."  She  paused  and  glanced  down  with  dep- 
recation and  perplexity  at  the  woman  before 
her,  who  was  soLbing  in  her  apron,  hard,  dry 
sobs  that  threatened  to  choke  her.  "If  you're 
mad  at  me,"  she  continued  with  dignity,  "per- 
Iiaps  you  don't  wf.nt  to  lend  me  the  currants.'* 
She  set  the  paper  bag  back  upon  the  table. 

"  No,  no,  keep  the  currants,"  she  rei^lied,  wip- 
ing her  eyes,  and  making  a  strong  effort  to  con- 
trol herself.  «  You  mustn't  mind  me  speaking 
hastily.  I  am  not  myself  to-day.  I  can't  help 
thinking  of  Nanny,  it  seems  dreadful  to  begin 
the  new  year  without  her.  It  was  bad  enough 
to  see  her  chair  empty  on  Christmas  and  all  the 
other  stockings  hanging  behind  the  stove  but 


.!,!<• 


M 


124    SAINTS,  SINNEHS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

hers ;  but  this  is  worse.  I  don't  want  to  hear 
the  bells  to-night."  She  stopped  suddenly  as  if 
surprised  at  her  own  vehemence  and  freedom  of 
speech,  which  was  indeed  rare  and  only  to  be 
explained  on  the  score  of  her  unusual  excite- 
ment, then,  shrinking  back  into  her  habitual 
reserve,  she  said  abruptly  and  with  a  calm  man- 
ner: 

"Good-bye,  Mrs.  Perkins,  I  hope  you  anc^ 
your  family  will  have<a  happy  New  Year."  She 
hastily  closed  the  door,  without  giving  tlie  other 
woman  a  chance  to  reply;  and  the  good-natured 
but  blundering  neighbor  went  on  her  way  in  a 
confused  state  of  mind,  scarce  knowing  whether 
to  feel  self-reproachful  or  inju];ed. 

That  same  evening,  when  darkness  had  gath- 
ered, and  a  cold,  bitter  wind  howled  mournfully 
at  the  windows  and  doors,  John  Baxter  and  his 
wife  sat  near  the  fire  at  a  little  distance  apart, 
but  still  farther  separated  by  the  unsympathetic 
remoteness  of  their  thoughts.     Mrs.  Baxter  was 
plying  her  knitting-needles  swiftly,  as  was  her 
wont,  but  with  a  serious  and  preoccupied  manner. 
She   was  not '  naturally   nervous,   but  occa- 
sionally, when  a  loud  and  angry  gust  pierced 
the  silence  of  the  room,  she  would  shiver  and 
appear  to  be  listening ;   then  with  a  sigh  she 
would  telax  her  tense  attitude  and  restore  her 
wandering  attention  to  the  immediate  |)resent. 


:i 


NANNY. 


125 


Hor  husband  liad  the  open  Bible  upon  his  knee, 
which  he  was  reading  in  the  mumbling,  half-audi- 
ble way  peculiar  with  him.  After  a  short  time 
lie  closed  the  book  and  replacing  it  upon  its  shelf 
returned  to  his  seat,  and  resting  his  head  upon 
one  hand  fell  into  a  meditation  which,  judging 
from  his  expression,  was  a  mixture  of  self-abne- 
gation and  submissiveness  to  chastisement. 

At  times  liis  face  darkened  with  an  ominous 
cloud  tliat  betokened  an  inward  rebellion  ;  he 
stretched  his  limbs  and  twisted  round  in  his 
chair  uneasily,  irritably,  as  one  writlies  under  the 
grip  of  a  relentless  foe.  But  tliis  was  a  mere 
impulse,  spontaneous  and  involuntary  ;  it  would 
pass  away  gradually  with  the  look  that  accom- 
panied it,  and  he  would  sit  silent  and  passive  as 
before. 

It  was  not  unusual  for  them  to  pass  long 
hours  together  without  exchanging  more  than 
the  necessary  modicum  of  words ;  they  were 
persons  of  limited  mental  resources,  of  ordinary 
ideas  and  moderate  education.  Years  ago 
they  had  come  to  tlie  end  of  any  surprising  in- 
telligence as  regarded  each  other,  and  had  settled 
down  to  make  the  most  of  tlie  knowledge  thus 
acquired,  living  on  quietly  in  tlie  same  old  ruts, 
in  which  nothing  ever  happened  that  had  in  the 
least  degree  the  spice  of  novelty. 

Tbe  escapade  of  their  eldest  child  was  the  only 


n"^ 


vi 


126     SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 


event  that  had  disturbed  the  serenity  of  their 
lives,  and  very  soon  it  became  tacitly  understood 
that  this  was  a  subject,  which,  however  momen- 
tous, was  not  conducive  to  domestic  felicity, 
and  could  not  in  any  respect  prove  an  edifying 
discussion. 

But  to-night  the  mother  felt  impelled  to  talk  ; 
she  longed  with  the  intensity  of  a  nature  long 
repressed  and  pent  up  in  itself,  for  the  relief  of 
a  confidential  outpouring  to  some  kindred  spirit. 
Who  so  well-fitted  by  legal  and  moral  right  to 
receive  these  confidences  as  John  Baxter? 

After  throwing  a  few  timid  glances  in  his  di- 
rection, and  observing  that  his  fidgety  move- 
ments and  forbidding  looks  had  given  place  to 
a  meekness  of  attitude  that  was  not  altogether 
discouraging,  she  began  tremblingly : 

"  I  wonder  where  Nanny  is  to-night,  father  ? 
My  heart  aclies  when  I  think  of  her." 

"  How  often  have  I  told  you  not  to  mention 
the  name  of  that  miserable  sinner  in  my  hear- 
ing?" he  demanded  sternly.  "  She  is  no  longer 
my  child,  but  an  alien — an  alien  to  her  family 
and  God's  mercy — no  retribution  could  be  too 
severe  for  that  shameless  girl.  But  she'll  suffer 
yet,  she  will  be  without  a  shelter  for  her  giddy 
head — without  a  crust  to  eat,  and  maybe  she 
will  remember  the  day  when  she  was  clothed 
and  fed  and  treated  as  well  as  any  other  girl  in 


NANNT.  127 

this  town.  I'll  warrant  that  she'll  wish  then 
that  she  hadn't  cast  us  oS:  for  that  scamp  of  a 
fellow.     Yes,  she'll  rue  it." 

Mr.  Baxter  proceeded  to  moralize  upon  broad 
general  principles.  "  If  I  know  aijy thing  about 
that  book  yonder,"  he  said,  pointing  to  the  Bible, 
"and  I  think  I  may  say  tliat  I  do,  after  study- 
ing it  nigh  on  to  tliirty  years,  I  know  one  thing 
at  least,  and  that  is  the  Divine  Being  abhors 
sin " 

"But  loves  the  sinner,"  interrupted  his  wife, 
speaking  softly. 

"  He  punishes  the  siimer,  eternally,  without 
hope,  that's  His  love,"  returned  Baxter. 

"  Yes,  those  who  have  had  every  chance  and 
will  not  come  to  Him  are  punished,  but  as  long 
rs  life  lasts.  He  holds  out  hope  that  they  may 
come,  and  forgives  them  freely  when  they  do. 
Isn't  that  it,  father  ?  " 

"  ^J"o,  hope  doesn't  hold  out  always.  He  says, 
'  My  spirit  shall  not  always  strive  with  men.' 
And  when  that  is  withdrawn  there  is  no  more 
hope." 

"  I  don't  believe  it,"  said  Mrs.  Baxter  with 
extraordinary  decision. 

"Don't  believe  what?"  asked  her  husband 
gruffly. 

"  That  God  ever  makes  it  impossible  for  sin- 
ners to  com^  to  Him,    I'ys  thought  about  itj 


128    SAINTS,  SINNEES  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

and  I  don't  believe  it.  Do  you  think  there 
would  ever  come  a  time  when  I  wouldn't  take 
Nanny  back  if  she  wanted  to  come  ?  I  would 
keep  on  trying  to  bring  hei"  if  I  knew  where  she 
was,  even  if  she  didn't  want  to  come,  and  I 
would  never  give  her  up.  Is  God  less  merciful 
than  a  mother?  " 

"  Presumptuous  woman  ! "  exclaimed  Baxter, 
^xing  his  stern  gray,  eyes  upon  her  in  righteous 
reproof.  "  To  think  that  j^ou,  a  piece  of  perish- 
able clay,  a  worm  of  the  dust,  can  dare  to  ques- 
tion the  justice  of  the  Almighty  I " 

"I  don't  question  it,  John,"  returned  the 
frightened  little  woman  in  self-defence,  as  she 
quailed  beneath  his  glance.  "  I  wouldn't  dare 
to  question  God's  goodness,  but  I  want  to  un- 
derstand it;  and  I  cannot  believe  that  He  is 
ever  cruel,  and  I  don't  want  you  to  think  that 
He  is.  M  you  could  think  that  God  loves  our 
poor  Nanny,  maybe  you  would  not  be  so  hard 
on  her  yourself." 

"  No  more,'  no  more,"  said  her  husband  in 
solemn  disapproval,  "  let  us  drop  this  subject 
once  and  forever.  Those  who  espouse  the  cause 
of  Christ  with  clean  hearts  are  bound  to  forsake 
evil,  and  come  out  and  be  separate  from  it.  If 
that  girl  who  disgraced  the  name  we  gave  her, 
were  to  come  back  to-night  and  say.  Father,  let 
me  in.    I  would  say  No,  you  chose  your  own 


NANNY. 


129 


path  and  forsook  innocence,  and  you  can't  return 
to  your  old  home  to  cast  your  reproach  on  us, 
and  contaminate  the  otlier  children.  I  would 
give  her  money  if  she  needed  it,  and  help  her  to 
live  honestly,  but  let  her  come  in  as  she  used  to 
and  sit  at  our  table,  and  sleep  under  our  roof  ? 
No,  Mary  Baxter.  Bad  company  and  I  shook 
hands  and  said  good-bye  when  I  got  converted; 
I  don't  associate  witli  such  as  Nanny ;  whether 
she's  my  child  or  anybody  else's  child,  it  makes 
no  difference." 

"  Oh,  father  !  "  wailed  the  tortured  motlier. 
"  It  near  kills  me  to  hear  you  talk  like  that.  It 
isn't  like  Christ,  no,  it  isn't.  I  haven't  much 
book-learning,  but  there  are  some  things  that  are 
not  hard  to  know  without  books." 

There  was  a  long  silence.  Baxter  had  relieved 
his  mind  of  any  superabundant  ideas,  and  had 
now  nothing  further  to  say. 

Presently  there  was  a  sound  of  a  faltering  step 
outside  the  door,  followed  by  a  faint  and  timid 
knock.  Mrs.  Baxter  rose  hurriedly,  an  eager, 
apprehensive  look  in  her  large  dark  eyes,  but 
she  was  forestalled  by  her  husband,  wlio  imper- 
atively removed  her  to  one  side  and  with 
his  hand  on  the  latch  called  out  in  a  clear 
voice : 

"  Who  is  there  ?  " 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you,  father?  "  said 


I 


wm 


'■       f 


130     SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

his  wife  with  iiervbus  impetuosity,  "  why  don't 
you  open  the  door  and  find  out  ?  " 
The  question  was  lepeated. 
"Who  is    there?"    but  still    there   was   no 
answer,  and  the  knock  came  again,  fainter  and 
more  timid  than  before. 

"  Well,  Johi  you  are  a  coward,"  she  said 
with  a  short  mirtliless  laugh,  "  scared  to  open 
the  door  to  a  stranger  at  nine  o'clock  in  the 
evening." 

"  Mrs.  Baxter,  will  you  mind  your  own  busi- 

■  ness  ?  "  he  said  in  a  low,  intense  voice,  turning 

a  lowering  brow  towards  her.     Then  her  heart 

sank,  for  she  knew  that  he  suspected  as  she  did, 

'  that  it  was  Nanny  who  stood  outside  knocking 

for  admittance. 

For  an  instant  she  felt  sick  and  faint,  the 
familiar  details  of  the  room  reeled  and  swayed 
before  her  eyes, -but  she  maintained  her  self- 
possession. 

She  walked  over  to  the  window,  and  raising 
the  blind  peered  out  upon  that  portion  of  the 
veranda  which  faced  the  door.  Yes,  it  must  be 
Nanny.  She  could  only  catch  a  glimpse  of  gar- 
ments fluttering  in  the  wind.,  but—yes,  that  was 
Nanny's  red  merino  dress  and  brown  cloth  cloak 
that  she  wore  last  winter.  In  the  meantime. 
Baxter,  with  a  look  of  indomitable  resolution, 
locked  the  door    and, slipped  the    key  in  his 


A^^A^vr. 


131 


pocket.     Then  lie  went  round  to  the  front  en- 
trance and  secured  it  in  the  same  wa^A. 
Mrs.  Baxter  flew  to  the  door,  and  panted : 
"  Yes,  Nanny,  I'll  let  you  in,  just  in  a  minute, 
dear." 

"  You  mean  that  you  will  if  you  can''  said 
Baxter,  with  an  ugly,  implacable  smile  as  he 
came  back  into  the  room. 

His  wife  ceased  her  futile  efforts  and,  raising 
a  white,  drawn  face,  stood  as  if  paralyzed. 

"You  can't  mean  it?"  she  gasped, — "your 
own  child— oh,  Jolni !  "  She  remained  motion- 
less for  a  minute,  her  sharp  glance  darting  liither 
and  thither  like  that  of  a  terrified  animal  cor- 
nered at  every  turn,  and  seeing  no  chance  of 
escape ;  then  she  staggered  a  little,  and  moaned. 

Again  came  that  feeble  knock.  "Keep  up 
your  heart,  Nanny,"  said  the  mother  through  the 
key-hole,  "  I  am  coming." 

Then  slie  approached  her  husband  with  a  new 
dignity  in  her  carriage,  a  new  and  unwonted 
light  of  determination  in  her  pale  countenance, 
a  gentle  persuasion  in  her  voice. 

"  John,  listen  to  me,"  she  said,  looking  him 
full  in  tlie  eyes  with  unswerving  insistence. 
"  Have  I  ever  been  anything  but  a  good  and 
trusty  wife  to  you  since  the  day  I  stood  with 
you  at  the  altar,  twenty  yeai-s  ago  ?  Have  I  not 
stood  by  you  and  always  done  as  you  wished 


"1^ 
'!  d 


i  'I;  '< 

ii 


1^2    SAtNfS,  SlNNiliiS  AND  QlfEEit  PEOPLE. 

with  tlie  children,  even  when  I  would  rather 
have  done  differently  if  left  to  myself  ?  Have 
you  ever  heard  me  murmur  or  complain? 
Haven't  I  cared  for  you  and  the  family  always 
—sick  or  well— as  best  I  knew  how?  Think  of 
these  things,  John,  don't  break  my  heart  by 
turning  Nanny  away;  it  might  be  Jier  ruin." 

"She  couldn't  be  worse  than  she  is,  I 
reckon,"  he  said  loudlv,  and  his  wife  stifled  a 
cry,  for  she  knew  that  the  girl  shivering  out- 
side in  the  cold  must  hear  eveiy  word.  "  I 
have  sworn  that  she  shall  never  cross  this 
threshold  again,  and  I  mean  it.  I  am  a  man  of 
my  word ;  when  John  Baxter  says  a  thing  he 
means  it ;  everybody  knows  that  I  always  do 
what  I  think  is  right,  no  matter  who  is  pleased 
or  who  isn't  pleased.  I'll  not  see  the  hussy 
starve,  but  I'll  not  have  her  here." 

He  drew  a  silver  dollar  from  his  pocket,  and 
slipped  it  through  the  crack  under  the  door. 
"She  may  take  this  and  welcome,  and  buy  a 
comfortable  bed^  and  food  to  last  her  till  she 
gets  work.  I  don't  begrudge  any  hungry  creat- 
ure  a  bite  to  eat." 

"  Out  upon  your  miserable,  ranting  piety  I " 
exclaimed  Mrs.  Baxter  fiercely.  "  What  good 
is  your  Bible  and  your  long  prayei-s,  if  it  leaves 
your  heart  like  a  stone,  with  no  mercy  or 
pity?" 


€ 


NaNNW 


183 


,f 


iS 


"  Be  careful,  Mary,"  said  her  husband  warn- 

"  Be  careful  yourself,  man.  Yes,  look  to 
youi-self ! "  She  was  beginning  to  cry  weakly, 
hysterically.  "'  If  you  do  this  great  wrong  to 
our  Nanny,  the  day  wi  1  surely  come  when  you 
will  knock  at  the  door  of  Heaven  and  the  Lord 
will  turn  you  away;  you  will  call,  and  there 
will  be  no  answer;  if  you  don't  show  mercy 
now,  God  will  not  be  merciful  to  you  on  the 
last  day." 

"  I  know  my  duty,"  he  said  doggedly. 

"  It's  a  queer  kind  of  duty,  I'm  thinking," 
she  replied,  with  a  short  satirical  laugh  that 
told  of  the  ravaging  effect  this  strain  was  hav- 
ing upon  her  nerves.  Then  the  full,  terrific 
force  of  the  situation  dawned  upon  her;  she 
realized  the  impending  necessity  of  immediate 
action;  every  moment  was  precious,  but  she 
was  powerless  to  do  anything.  Perhaps  even 
now,  wearied  and  disheartened  by  the  barred 
door  and  her  father's  harsh  words,  the  girl  was 
turning  her  steps  backward  to  seek,  in  a  lodg- 
ing-hause,  the  warmth  and  shelter  which  had 
been  denied  to  her  in  her  own  home. 

All  her  conflicting  emotion,  her  grief,  fear 
and  suspense,  found  vent  in  a  frenzied,  inco- 
herent prayer  as  she  tossed  herself  from  side  to 
side,  her  streaming  eyes  turned  upward. 


s   t 


!i'. 


lii 


134    SAINTS,  STNNEJIS  ANh  QlTERIi  PEOPLE. 

"Oh  God!  Nanny's  at  the  door  and  lie  won't 
et  her  in."  Over  and  over  again  slie  repeated 
the  waihng  cry.  This  was  no  meaningless 
form  of  petition,  set  oif  with  fine  devout  phrases 
and  conventional  language,  but  prayer  in  ear- 
nest,  a  spirit  struggling  mightily  in  the  throes 
or  anguish. 

"  Hush  I    You  are  waking  the  children  with 
your  voice,"  said  Baxter  sharply. 

But  she  would  not  *  be  still.  It  was  nothing 
to  her  that  the  sleep  of  her  five  children  should 
be  disturbed  when  she  was  confronted  with  the 
fjict,  infinitely  more  important  to  her,  that  one, 
the  eldest,  was  beseeching  in  vain  for  admis- 
sion,—for  permission  to  sleep  anywhere  under 
the  old  roof. 

What  a  night  it  was  to  stand  and  knock- 
driving   sleet  that  had  the   sharp   prickling  of 
myriads  of  needle-points,  boisterous  winds  laden 
with    wrath    and    foreboding,   now    clamoriuff 
shrilly   like    a  petulant  child,   anon   breaking 
forth  into  angry  dispute  and  dismal  murmuit 
ings.     Footsteps  sounded  once  more  on  the  path 
outside      Mrs.  Baxter  caught  her  breath  and 
listened.     The  gate  clicked,  and  to  her  exagger- 
ated  fancy  it  gave  forth  a  click  of  despair. 

She  started  up  with  a  gesture  that  was  at 
once  wild  and  menacing. 

"John  Baxter!"  more  awful  than  anything 


i  if. 


^ANNY. 


135 


!f 


lie  had  ever  heard.  "  Give  me  that  key  !  Give 
It  to  me!  Not  a- word!  Give  it  to  me  I  say,  or 
i  11  smash  the  window  and  get  out  to  Nanny ; 
lou  may  keep  her  out  in  tlie  cold  but  you  can't 
keep  me  in  from  going  to  her."  Her  eyes 
flaslied,  and  she  advanced  towards  him,  pale  and 
quivering  with  excitement,  her  whole  attitude 
Uehant  and  tlireatening,  a  veritable  Nemesis. 

Her  husband  shrank  away  from  her.     With 
all  his  braggart  talk  he  was  not  free  from  a  cer- 
tain cowardice  ;  he  had  always  had  a  wholesome 
restraining  fear  of  drunken  pugilists,  mad  dogs, 
and  furious  women,  anything  in  short  that  com- 
bined  a  supernatural  physical  strength  witli  un- 
controllable fierceness.     His  small  wife,  gener- 
ally  so  quiet  and  meek,  had  become  in  the  last 
lew  moments  an  imposing  and  dangerous  ,)er- 
son.     He  tried  to  maintain  his  tone  of  authority, 
tried  to  intimidate  her  by  his  habitual  dogged- 
ness  of  look  and  manner,  but  it  was  of  no  use. 
"Give  it  to  me,"  she  said  hoarsely,  "or  I'll  so 
out  through  the  window." 

"  Mary,  have  you  turned  lunatic  ?  "    he  asked 
in  some  trepidation. 

_  "Maybe  I  have,"  she  said.  "You  had  better 
give  in  to  me  before  I  do  something  you'll  be 
sorry  for;  lunatics  ain't  to  be  depended  on  " 

He  looked  frightened.     She  could  see  that  he 
was  wavering.     Still  keeping  her  blazinc  .v.« 


!i 


13  G    SAiyrs,  SINNERS  AND  QUEEti  PEOPLE. 

upon  liim,  she  deliberately  slipped  her  hand  into 
Jiis  pocket  and  recovered  tlie  precious  key.  He 
made  no  remonstrance ;  lie  was  thorouglily  sub- 
dued  by  the  magnetic  potency  of  lier  tremendous 
will-power.  As  she  unlocked  the  door  and 
hurried  out,  the  word  Nanny  trembling  upon 
her  lips,  he  fell  back  in  ins  chair  with  a  groan 
and  covered  his  face  with  iiis  hands. 

"  Oh  Lord,  I  am  ^horn  of  my  strength,  the 
woman  thou  gavest  me  for  an  helpmeet  is  a 
stumbling-block;  she's  worae  than  Lot's  wife, 
or  Delilah  "—his  voice  died  away  into  a  whining,' 
meaningless  supplication. 

Meanwhile  Mrs.  Baxter  had  fled  over  the 
snow-trodden  path  in  the  front  yard  out  to  the 
street,  in  pursuit  of  a  drooping,''dejected  figure 
that  was  slowly  moving  ahead  of  her. 

"  Nanny !  "  she  called  through  the  deafening 
chorus  of  the  winds,  "  Nanny !  "  Her  apron  was 
blown  '  p  over  her  eyes,  and  her  feet  kept  slip, 
ping  on  the  ice,  but  she  struggled  on  through 
the  dark  towards  the  retreatincr  object  tluit 
looked  like  a  fleeting  shadow.  Presently  the 
shadow  stood  still,  then  turned  back  hesitatingly, 
and  in  another  minute  the  mother's  amis  were 
strained  around  it. 

^  "Will  father  let  me  in?"  asked  the  girl  in  a 
timid  voice. 

«  Yes,  dear,  come  with  me,  you  must  be  near 


^ANNY. 


137 


frozen."      She  led  her  back  into  the  wfirnily. 
liglited  kitchen.     Jolni  Baxter  sat  in  tlie  same 
place ;  he  had  not  moved.     His  face  was  still 
hidden  in  his  hands.     Nanny  stepped  softly  over 
the  threshold  in  a  sort  of  awed  humility ;  she 
threw  a   beseeching,  suppliant  glance  towards 
her  father,  but  the  mother  motioned  her  to  be 
silent.     She  took  a  small  lamp  from  the  shelf 
and  lighted  it,  then  led  the  way  out  of  the  room 
and  up  the  stairs  to  the  small  apartment  at  the 
head  of  the  landing,  which  had  always  belonged 
to  Nanny,  and  which,  ever  since  her  flight,  eight 
months  ago,  had  been  kept  in  readiness  for  her 
return.     When  they  had  entered,  she  closed  the 
door. 

The  girl  sank  wearily  ur)on  r-hair,  for  she 
was  exhausted.  She  had  il  waxen  features, 
round  and  regular,  but  her  complexion  was  no 
longer  pink-tinted,  it  had  ihe  ashen  paK  u-  of 
extreme  debility  and  niental  depression.  There 
were  heavy  shadows  beneath  her  eyes,  and  harsh 
lines  about  the  mouth,  sweet  and  cherry-lipped 
though  it  was.  She  was  only  sixteen,  but  looked 
fully  twenty.  Mrs.  Baxter  removed  her  hat 
and  cloak  and  laid  them  on  the  bed. 

"  I  think  you  had  best  undress  and  go  to  bed," 
she  said,  «  you  must  be  tuckered  right  out.  I'll 
bring  you  up  a  bite  to  eat— some  cold  biscuits 
and  jam.     You  mustn't  mind  if  your  father  acta 


'il 


m 


138    SAINTS,  SmNEns  AND  OTHER  PEOPLE. 

queer  for  a  while;  he  was  dreadful  cut  up 
about  your  going  away,  but  I  guess  he'll  come 
around  in  time." 

W'th  innate  delicacy  she  refrained  from  touch- 
ing upon  the  cause  of  Nanny's  departure,  till 
the  moment  arrived  when  her  daughter  would 
freely  confide  in  her,  without  being  obliged  to 
submit  to  the  painful  operation  of  probing  with 
questions.     She  had  not  long  to  wait. 

Mrs.  Baxter  stoo|)ed  to  unbutton  her  over- 
shoes, it  seemed  to  be  a  pleasure  to  her  to  act 
in  the  capacity  of  serving-maid  to  this  prodigal 
child.  Nanny's  tired  glance  fell  upon  the  bent 
head,  the  smooth  black  hair  so  plentifully  sprin- 
kled with  gray,  and  the  tears  started  to  her  eyes. 
"I  suppose  you  think  I  acted  pretty  mean, 
running  off  like  that?  "  she  began,  with  a  catch 
in  her  voice. 

"  Well,  I'll  own  that  it  wasn't  the  right  thing 
to  do,  Nanny.  If  you  had  told  me  beforehand 
about  that  fellow,  I  would  have  warned  you  not 
to  have  anything  to  do  with  him.  You've  lost 
your  good  name  now,  and  that's  the  worst  loss 
that  can  happen  to  any  girl." 

"He  lied  to  me;  he  said  he  would  marry 
me,"  she  said  with  a  childish  vindictiveness. 

"  He  isn't  the  first  man  that's  promised  the 
same  and  done  different.  That  lie  is  as  old  as 
—as  Hell,  Nanny.     But  it  was  partly  my  own 


'  I 


^  s 


NANNY. 


189 


<  I 


fault, — I  didn't  look  after  you  as  I  might  have 
done  ;  we'll  begin  over  again.  I  am  mighty 
glad  you're  home,  I  was  afraid  you  would  take 
to  the  streets ;  I've  been  worrying  my  life  out 
about  you.  I  guess  I  am  getting  to  be  an  old 
woman,  and  maybe  you  tliink  I'm  not  cheerful 
company,  but  I  don't  feel  so  old,  after  all.  We 
can  chum  together  more,  don't  you  think  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mother,"  was  the  meek  response  in  a 
choking  voice. 

"It's  been  a  bad  business  altogether,"  re- 
sumed Mrs.  Baxter,  as  she  hung  Nanny's  clothes 
on  a  peg  in  the  closet,  "  it  will  be  hard  for  you 
to  pick  up  again,  but  you  must  just  make  up 
your  mind  to  bear  it  patiently,  and  be  a  good 
girl  in  future."  Mrs.  Baxter  came  and  pressed 
the  tired  Nanny  to  her  heart,— and  they  cried 
in  silence." 


"  I  wish  you  would  step  upstaii-s  and  have  a 
look  at  her,  fathei-,"  she  said  a  few  moments 
later,  when  she  had  descended  the  stairs,  and 
entered  into  a  conciliatory  conversation  v/ith  her 
husband,  who  still  retained  a  stricken  aspect. 

"  She  is  sleeping  so  quietly  and  peacefully  it 
would  do  your  heart  good  to  see  her.  She  can't 
be  so  bad  as  you  think,  or  she  wouldn't  have 
come  back  at  all." 

John  Baxter  growled  in  an  inarticulate  voigo 


140    SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 
.  something  about  not  going  to  be   bossed  and 
bullied  by  a  woman,  to  which  uncomplimentary 
insinuation  his  wife  very  wisely  paid  no  atten- 
tion. 

She  went  on  talking  in  her  quietest  manner, 
all  symptoms  of  lunacy  having  completely  sub- 
sided; and  by  and  by  a  strange  transformation 
began  to  take  place  in  John  Baxter.     His  flinty 

T  nf  7  '*'^^'' '  ^^  '^^'  ^^^  q"i*«  «o  «"ie  of  the 
mfalhbihty  of  his  theories  as  to  the  proper  and 
Christian-hke  treatment  of  sinners  in  this  world 
and  a  doubt  crept  into  his  mind  as  to  whether 
his  wifes  views  might  not,  after  all,  be  con- 
formable  to  the  strictest  morality-a  sort  of  mild 
justice  tempered  with  mercy. 

When  she  asked  a  second  time  if  he  would 
go  upstairs,  he  offered  no  protest,  but  rose  and 
loUowed  her. 

As  they  entered  the  bedroom  and  heard  the 
light  slumberous  breathing  of  the  inmate,  he 
hung  back  almost  sheepishly  and  with  evident 
reluctance,  but  his  wife  caught  his  hand  and 
pulled  him  \n, 

Nanny's  pretty  head  was  thrown  into  relief  by 
the  immaculate  whiteness  of  the  bed-coverin<rs, 
which  formed  an  effective  background ;  it  wlis 
not   unlike  a  rare,  vivid  flower  cast  against  a     ' 
snow-drift.     She  did  not  look  altogether  happy, 
but  she  was  at  least  comfortable.    Her  soft,  fair 


NANNY. 


141 


,    I 


hair  unbound,  rippled  over  the  piUow ;  the 
thickly  fringed  eyelids  drooped  placidly,  but 
around  the  sensitive  lips  there  still  hovered  those 
lines  of  pain,  which  had  been  traced  by  the  sly 
finger  of  Disillusion  rather  than  by  the  heavy 
hand  of  Time. 

It  was  as  though  the  fair  sleeper  even  in  her 
dreams  was  seeking  in  vain  for  the  complete 
rest  of  oblivion,  and  was  still  overshadowed  in 
spirit  by  one  of  the  dark  wings  of  evil.  The 
face  was  sweet  and  childlike  but  strangely 
troubled  for  one  so  young. 

John  Baxtr  .  >od  before  the  bed — a  large  un- 
gainly figure,  ..svkward  and  uneasy  in  liis  loose- 
fitting  homespun  suit.  He  shifted  from  one 
foot  to  the  other  and  coughed  down  an  unpleas- 
ant sensation  in  his  throat. 

"  She  isn't  much  changed,"  he  said  huskily. 
"  I  thought  she  would  look  kind  of  hard  and 
brazen,  but  she  don't.  She  looks  quite  natural." 
There  was  a  short  silence.  The  effect  of  these 
words  was  a  vague,  uncomfortable  sensation  in 
the  minds  of  the  parents,  as  if  they  were  gazing 
upon  something  inanimate, — something  that  had 
been,  but  was  now  no  more.  Their  reverie  was 
broken  by  a  loud  and  solemn  clang.  The  pon- 
derous town  bell,  the  faithful  chronicler  of  sad 
and  happy  events,  was  heralding  the  arrival  of 
a  New  Year,— a  gracious  lady  from  the  land  of 


,y^' 


142    SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

the  immortals,  her  arms  heaped  up  with  strange 
gifts,  was  wafted  in  upon  tlie  night-robed  world 
"I've  been  dreading  the  bell  all  day,"  said 
Mrs.  Baxter,  in  hushed  tones,  "but  now  it 
sounds  good ;  I  can  listen  and  thank  God  that 
we  are  an  unbroken  family."  Then,  dropping 
upon  her  knees  by  the  bedside,  she  poured  forth 
her  gratitude  in  the  first  audible  prayer  she  had 
ever  uttered. 

"Oh  Lord,  Thou  hast  been  good  to  us  to  send 
Nanny  home,  and  we  praise  Thee  for  it.  She 
has  done  wrong,  but  please.  Lord,  forgive  her,  as 
we  do,  for  she  is  young  and  maybe  it  was  our 
fault.  Teach  us  how  to  do  right  by  her.  We 
are  ignorant  and  don't  know  how  to  act.  Lord 
bless  us  all.    Amen." 

"  Amen,"  repeated  John  Baxter, 


\ 


I 


X 


i  *l 


THE  ACCUSED  AND  A  PESSIMIST. 


The  women  Avho  composed  the  Ladies'  Aid 
sewing  circle  of  Button ville  had  met  as  usual 
on  Thursday  afternoon  at  the  home  of  their 
estimable  president,  Mrs.  Coulson.  They  fol- 
lowed the  usual  course  of  procedure. 

Mrs.  Bennett,  the  secretary,  who  handled  the 
scissors  dexterously  and  was  said  to  be  economi- 
cal, cut  out  a  number  of  garments,  holding  up  a 
small  handful  of  scraps  at  the  close  of  the  opera- 
tion to  show  how  skilfully  she  had  contrived  to 
make  a  few  yards  of  stuff  go  a  long  way. 

Mrs.  Johnson,  who  was  reputed  to  have  good 
taste  and  executive  ability  and  had  acquired  a 
slight  advantage  over  her  neighbors  in  becoming 
a  subscriber  to  a  Ladies'  Fashion  Journal,  gave 
di lections  as  to  how  those  garments  should  be 
made,  and  the  other  women,  accepting  her  judg- 
ment as  final,  quietly  followed  instructions. 

It  was  a  bright  May  day  with  a  touch  of  chilli-  . 
ness  in  the  south  wind.     The  sunshine  streamed 
through   the   muslin-curtained   window,  falling 
in  slanting  rays  upon  the  home-made  rag-carpet, 
the  broa4  chintz  lounge,  and  the  table  with  its 


Ml' 


1/IQ 


I' 


r 


144    SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

red  wool  cover;  whereon  reposed  in  the  neatest 
kind  of  disordei-,  work-baskets,  rolls  of  cloth, 
paper  patterns,  a  variety  of  spools,  needles,  pins, 
and  other  feminine  accessories  of  industry,  and 
lighted  the  faces  of  the  busy  needlewomen ; 
bringing  into  strong  i-elief  the  furrows  and 
seams  wliich  had  been  deeply  written  by  the 
hands  of  poverty,  sorrow,  and  care. 

Tliey  were  so  nearly  alike,  save  for  tlie  slight 
difference  of  age  (and  complexion,  tliat  one  de- 
scription, not  too  minutely  detailed,  would  an- 
swer for  all.  Tliey  were  eight  plain,  liome-like 
women,  middle  aged,  of  domestic  tastes  and  strin- 
gent liabits,  their  rough  red  liands,  and  thin, 
raw-boned  figures  giving  silent  testimony  to  that 
patience  and  heroism  wliich,  lichen-like,  lives 
and  thrives  in  the  hard  places  of  the  earth. 

Their  ideas  were  necessarily  limited,  but  af- 
forded sufficient  scope  for  such  conversation  as 
appealed  to  their  circumstances  and  experiences, 
and  their  tongues  moved  like  their  fingers, 
slowly  and  surely,  somewhat  clumsily  at  times, 
but  tending'to  some  definite  expression. 

"Jim  Parsons  is  out  of  jail,"  said  Mrs.  John- 
son, after  carefully  removing  the  pins  from  her 
mouth. 

Acquitted  ?  "  queried  Mrs.  Jeffere. 
Yes,  acquitted.     He  didn't  steal  the  boots, 
'twas  another  young  man  that  looked  lik^  him," 


^l, 


44 


THE  ACCUSED  AND  A  PESSIMIST.        Ub 

"Unfortunate  resemblance,"  said  Mis.  Jeffers 
dryly. 

"  His  mother  takes  it  awful  hard." 

"  What  ?    His  getting  out  ?  " 

"No.     His  getting  in." 

"  Well,  I  reckon  tliat  wasn't  Jim's  fault.  He 
didn  t  lay  out  to  be  arrested,"  said  Mi^.  Bennett, 
wiio  Iiad  some  vague  notir.as  of  justice. 

"It's  a  pity  folks  haven't  sense  enough  to  be 
respectable,"  said  Mrs.  Johnson. 

"  It's  a  pity  other  folks  won't  let  them  "  re- 
torted Mis.  Bennett.  ' 

"Well,"     said     Mrs.     Jeffers     thoughtfully, 

when  a  mistake  of  that  kind  happens  there's 

generally  some  giound  for  suspicion.    I  guess 

If  the  truth   were  known  Jim's   respectability 

hasn  tbeen  looking  up  lately." 

"You're  strong  on  that  point.  You  think 
that  whatever  happens  is  all  right,"  said  Mra. 
Coulson  tentatively. 

"  Yes,  it  works  around  that  way  in  time,"  re- 
p  led  Mrs  Jeffers  in  her  calm  judicial  voice. 
She  called  herself  a  "just  woman,"  but  there 
were  persons  in  the  village  who  considered  her 
iiard,  unkind,  and  censorious. 

"Supposing  Jim  was  the  thief,"  resumed  Mrs. 
Bennett,  "I  must  say  Mi-s.  Pai-sons  isn't  acting 
much  like  the  Prodigal  father." 

''  Who  is  that?"  asked  Mrs.  Coulson absently. 


ft: 


\m:>f\ 


\:\: 


.'lA 


146     SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

"  The  Prodigal  father  wlio  killed  the  fatted 
calf?"  explained  Mrs.  Bennett  in  a  voice  which 
was  calculated  to  make  Mrs.  Coulson  blush  for 
her  deficiency  in  Scriptural  knowledge. 

"She  wouldn't  cook  a  calf  no  matter  how 
she  felt,"  said  Mrs.  Johnson  gravely.  "  Slie  is  a 
vegetarian.  If  slie  made  any  kind  of  a  spread 
it  would  be  boiled  cauliflower." 

There  was  silence,  for  a  sliort  space.  Mrs. 
Bennett  dropped  hel'  work  in  her  lap  and  looked 
out  of  the  window. 

"  Look  !  look !  There  she  goes  !  "  she  ex- 
claimed suddenly. 

"  Who  ?  "  asked  the  others  in  chorus,  pressing 
eagerly  forward. 

"  The  Pessimist." 
.     As  she  spoke,  a  hoi-se  ridden  by  a  tall   fair 
lady  dressed  in  a  green,  tailor-made  habit  gal- 
loped past  the  house. 

"  Riding  at  full  lickety-split,  break-neck  pace 
as  usual,"  said  Mrs.  Johnson.  "  Queer  how  she 
lives  alone  in  a  place  like  this,  and  nobody 
knows  who  she  is  or  where  she  comes  from. 
She  doesn't  speak  to  anybody  unless  she's 
obliged  to,  and  she  has  the  strangest  sign  upon 
her  door,  beginning,  'I  am  a  Pessimist.'  Pd 
have  gone  to  see  it  long  ago  if  I  hadn't  been 
afraid  to  go  near  the  house.  I  think  she  must 
be  crazy." 


'M 


THE  ACCUSED  AND  A  PESSmiST.        147 

"  Slie  looks  as  sa.;e  as  anybody  when  you  get 
close  to  her,"  said  Mrs.  Bennett.  "  Tliere's  some- 
tiling  pathetic  about  her  face.  She  looks  like  a 
grown-up  child  that  had  lost  lier  way.  I'd  have 
tried  to  make  friends  with  her  if  Mrs.  Jeffers 
hadn't  been  so  set  against  it." 

"  She  is  not  a  proper  person,  depend  upon  it," 
said  that  lady  with  decision. 

"Wasn't  it  a  pessimist  that  Mary  Doyle 
married?"  asked  Mrs.  Graham. 

"  No,  he  was  a  genius — wrote  a  history  or 
something  of  that  kind,"  returned  Mrs.  Coulson. 
"Awfully  hard  man  to  get  along  with.  His 
temper  explodes." 

"  Explodes  ?  "  repeated  Mrs.  Johnson. 
"  Yes,  goes  off  with  a  bang,  makes  a  blaze  and 
smoke." 

"  I  thank  Providence  I  didn't  marry  a  gen- 
ius^'  said  Mrs.  Coulson.  Any  kind  of  a  man  is 
hard  enough  to  manage  till  you  get  his  bearings, 
and  map  liim  out  like  a  foreign  country  in  a 
geography,  but  I  don't  think  I  could  find  the 
boundary  lines  of  a  genius." 

"  Or   a    pessimist,"    added    Mrs.    Bennett. 

"  What  is  a  pessimist,  anyway  ?     An  infidel  ?  " 

"  Yes,  something  of  that  kind,"  replied  Mrs. 

Jeffei-s  slowly.     "  A  person  who  looks  on  the 

dark  side." 

The  clock  struck  five.     The  women  folded 


;!  ♦! 


¥ 


m 


.i!!, 


148    SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QUEEU  PEOPLE. 

tlieir  work  and  laid  it  away  in  the  cushioned 
wooden  box  which  JVli-s.  Coulson  reseiNed  for 
that  purpose.     Tlien  tliey  put  on  their  capes  and 
shawls  nnd  tied  their  bonnet-strings. 
.       "  Wait  a  minute,  ladies.     I've  a  surprise  for 
you,"  said  Mrs.  Coulson.     She  left  the  room,  re- 
turning presently  with  a  small  morocco  case  in 
her  hand.     "You  like  to  look  at  pretty  things, 
don't  you  ?    I  think  most  everybody  does.     ThU  ■ 
is  a  present  my  Unclb  James  sent  me  from  Eng- 
knd."    They  had  all  heard  of    Uncle  James. 
He  was  Mrs.  Coulson's  capital  city,  geograph- 
ically speaking ;   her  boast,  her  pride,  her  joy 
forever. 

She  opened  the  case  and  presented  to  their 
expectant  eyes,  a  beautiful  brooch  of  solid  yel- 
low gold  with  a  circlet  of  small  diamonds  in  the 
centre.    They  expressed  their  admiration  freely. 

"I  suppose  a  trinket  like  that  would  cost  fifty 
dollars,"  said  Mra.  Jeffei-s. 

"About  a  hundred,  T  think,"  returned  Mrs 
Coulson.  "  But  that's  nothing  to  Uncle  James.* 
He  could  buy  this  place  out,  every  house  and 
foot  of  land  in  it  and  be  none  the  poorer." 

"  It's  a  pity  he  doesn't  do  it,  then,"  said  Mrs. 
Bennett.  « It  will  soon  run  to  seed  if  somebody 
with  money  doesn't  take  hold  of  it." 

"  It  will  look  lovely  on  your  black  silk,"  re- 
marked  Mrs.  Jeffers.    "  My !  I  don't  think  I  ever 


THE  ACCUSKD  AND  A  PJ^JSsnrrsT.        14{) 

saw  such  a  pretty  trinket."  The  otiiers  had  filed 
out  in  twos  and  threes  and  she  stood  alone  by 
the  table  Avith  the  broocli  in  her  liund.  Mi«. 
Coulson  was  moving  aronnd  the  room,  "setting 
things  to  rights,"  as  she  termed  it.  "It's  real 
hefty,  too,  isn't  it  ?•  No  imitation  about  it.  Just 
tliinki  The  money  that's  in  this  broocli  would 
furnish  that  front  room  of  mine  just  beautifully, 
lace  curtains  and  all.  It  doesn't  seem  quite 
right  to  pin  your  collar  with  it.  It  looks  like 
extravagance,  doesn't  it?" 

"  Well,  it  does  and  yet  it  doesn't,"  replied 
Mi-s.  Coulson,  speaking  in  a  loud  voice  from  the 
next  room.  "I  wouldn't  buy  a  thing  like  that 
myself,  but  as  it's  a  gift  I'm  glad  to  have  it." 

"  I've  never  had  anything  but  a  jet  brooch,'* 
said  Mrs.  Jeffers,  wrapping  her  shawl  around  her 
shoulders  and  fastening  it  at  the  throat  with  a 
safety-pin.  "  But  I  guess  I'm  none  the  woi-se 
off.  I'd  be  afraid  of  burglara  if  I  had  a  valuable 
like  that  in  the  house.  I'd  advise  you  to  put  it 
in  the  post-office  savisigs  bank." 


»M    .-I 


Next  morning,  as  Mrs.  Jeffers  was  stepping 
briskly  around  the  kitchen  preparing  dinner  for 
herself  and  three  boarders,  Mi-s.  Bennett  tapped 
at  the  screen  door. 

"  Oh,  it's  you  is,  it?  "  said  Mi-s.  Jeffers  cor- 


160    SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QVlXlt  Pt:OPlS. 

dially.  "I'm  a  littlo  Jiear-siglited  and  I  was 
afraid  you  were  a  1)ook  agent  when  I  saw  you  coiu- 
iiig  ui)  the  )ad.  Come  liglit  in,  but  don't  stay 
here,  it's  as  liot  as  a  furnace.  Go  into  the  front 
room.  Then  'sapahn-Ieaf  fan  on  tlie  centre-table." 
"  Mrs.  Coulson's  diamond  brooch  is  stolen  !  " 
exclaimed  Mrs.  Bennett  precipitately,  giving  no 
heed  to  these  kindly  remarks. 

Mi-s.  Jeifers  droppd  helplessly  into  tlie  near- 
est chair,  too  much  overcome  for  speech. 

"  My  !  "  she  gasped  at  last  with  a  long  breath. 
"You  brought  that  out  like  a  shot  from  a 
pistol.  You've  given  me  an  awful  turn,  Amanda 
Bennett!  My  heart  has  been  weak  lately. 
Now,  who  do  you  suppose  could  have  stolen 
that  brooch?  I  don't  believe  it's  gone,  it  will 
tuin  up  somewhere." 

"  I'm  afraid  not.  She  searched  for  it  herself 
last  night,  and  this  morning  I  went  over  and  we 
hunted  everywhere.  She  missed  it  just  after 
you— after  we  went  away.  She  was  in  the  bed- 
room and  when  she  came  back  into  the  parlor  it 
was  gone.  The  case  was  there  empty  on  the 
table." 

"Well,  that  beats  everything.  Where  on 
earth  could  it  have  gone  ?  It  couldn't  disappear 
of  itself.  Are  you  sure  no  one  was  in  the  room 
after  I  left  ?  "  • 

"  Mrs.  Coulson  says  she  went  into  the  parlor 


If 


H 


I' 


THE  ACCUSE])  AND  A  PESSIMIST.        161 

as  you  closed  tl.o  front  door.  You  liad  Uio 
brooch  in  your  liand  and  weie  talking  about  it 
befoie  you  went  out,  and  it  hasn't  been  seen 
since." 

A  strangely  quiet,  resolute  exi)ression  came 
into  the  older  woman's  face.  She  folded  her 
hands  across  her  white  apron  :.>v]  looked  steadily 
into  her  visitor's  face. 

'^Amanda  Bennett,"  sic  said,  vith  dignity, 
"you  may  as  well  say  whai'.  on  your  mind  and 
iuive  done  with  it.  You  came  hero  to  tell  me 
that  I  am  suspected  of  stealiiig  th;  .  !>/ooch  ?  " 

"  Yes,  ISIrs.  JefPers,  that's  why  i  came.     But 
no  one  believes  you  took  it,  though  all  the  cir- 
cumstances  point   that  way.      We   wanted  to 
keep  the  matter  quiet,  but  it  has  got  out  some- 
how and  everybody  is  talking  and  wondering 
about  it.     I've  heard  that  there  are  people  called 
kleptomaniacs  who  steal  things  and  can't  help  it." 
"I   never  heard   of   them,"   said    the   other 
woman  in  the  same  hard,  blunt  voice,  as  she  rose 
to  stir  the  custard.     «  At  any  rate,  I  didn't  steal 
the  brooch  and  I  don't  know  anything  about  it. 
It  will  turn  up,  sooner  or  later,  and  the  less  said 
about  it  the  better." 

Mrs.  Jeffers'  boarders  fared  ill  that  day.  The 
roast  was  underdone,  the  vegetables  watery,  the 
dessert  scorched  and  the  tea  neither  liot  nor 
qold;  and   the  good   woman   herself,  bustling 


f 


0' 


m 


'I'li  i' 
.  IP'I 


152    SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QUEER  PEOPlt. 

about  in  Avhite  cap  and  apron,  the  very  personifi- 
cation of  neatness,  was  strangely  distraught  and 
absent-minded. 

She  appeared  to  be  walking  in  a  dream,  and, 
as  dreams  have  nothing  in  common  with  this 
mundane  spliere  except  to  render  its  complexity 
still  more  perplexing,  by  reason  of  their  teasing 
unreality,  she  acquitted  herself  very  discredit- 
ably as  a  housekeeper.     Her  mind  constantly 
reverted  to  the  mystery  of  the  diamond  brooch 
and  the  cloud  of  suspicion  which  seemed  to  be 
gathering  around  her;  all  sorts  of  possibilities 
equally  at  variance  with  probability,  suggested 
themselves   with    distracting    effect    upon    an 
imagination,  which    had  been   accustomed    to 
move  methodically  in  quiet  grooves. 

In  the  afternoon  she  went  out  to  do  some 
shopping.  Our  condition  of  mind  has  various 
ways  of  showing  itself  and  is  frequently  made 
visible  in  those  bodily  movements  which  are  so 
insignificant  as  not  to  enter  into  our  consideration. 
This  truth  was.never  more  forcibly  demonstrated 
than  in  tiie  case  of  Mrs.  Jeffers. 

At  firat  she  ivalked  slowly  with  dragging 
footsteps  as  if  her  feet,  were  attached  to  invisible 
weights,  her  eyes  furtive  and  troubled.  Then, 
as  the  consciousness  of  her  innocence  grew  upon 
her,  and  a  sense  of  undeserved  injury  at  the 
hand  of  circumstance,  she  quickened  her  pace, 


i 


I  !l 


J'/Zi?  ACCUSED  AND  A  PESSlMISf.        15^ 

niised  lier  head  a  trifle  higher,  set  lier  teeth 
firmly,  primped  her  lips,  and  shot  a  gleam  out 
of  her  gray  eyes  that  would  have  disconcerted 
her  most  intimate  friends. 

Finally,  carried  along  involuntarily  by  the 
impetus  of  her  feelings,  she  walked  so  fast  and 
held   herself  so  rigidly  erect   that  she  looked 
positively  defiant.    Many  wondering  eyes  turned 
to  gaze  after  her  as  she  passed,  the  tall,  gaunt, 
familiar  figure  in  its  black  lustre  gown  and  rust 
velvet  dolman,  disporting  in  such  an  unfamiliar 
guise.    In  her  self-absorption,  she  almost  ran 
against  the  grocer,  who  was  a  sliort,  low-flying 
gentleman,  weighed  down  at  all  points  of  his 
compass  witli  parcels. 

"  Good-day,  Mr.  Smith,"  she  said,  coming  to 
a  stop  before  him.  «  Has  Mrs.  Coulson  found 
her  brooch  yet  ?  " 

He  replied  that  he  thought  not.  He  had  evi- 
dently heard  all  the  details  of  the  matter  and 
eyed  her  with  disptissionate  curiosity.  Whether 
as  a  culprit  or  estimable  church  member,  she 
failed  to  interest  him.  What  Mrs.  Jeffera 
did  or  did  not  do  was  really  of  small  moment 
to  the  majoiity  of  people  by  whom  she  was  sur-  " 
rounded.  The  neutral  tint  of  her  personality 
shielded  her  in  a  sense  from  extravagant  com- 
ment. 

But  the   imoortance  of  f.h«   ,*n^;,r;^.,„i    „ 


m 


p% 


154    SAlNfS,  smi^ERS  AND  QUL'Eli  PEOPLE. 

a  strong  theory  in  her  unworldly  primitive  mind, 
and  in  her  unconscious  egoism  she  fancied  that 
her  present  feeling  of  distress  and  perplexity 
was  of  public  value,  and  worthy  to  be  freely 
discussed. 

She  was  naturally  a  reticent  woman,  but  now 
she  talked  rapidly,  excitedly,  with  a  nervous 
catch  in  her  voice  as  if  her  ideas  came  too  fast 
for  words.  He  was  the  merest  acquaintance, 
but  she  told  him  all' the  circumstances  connected 
with  the  disappearance  of  the  trinket,  saying, 
with  a  careless  laugh,  which  fell  oddly  from  her 
lips,  that  she  hoped  it  would  turn  up  soon  be- 
cause she  was  the  last  to  look  at  it  and  of  course 
the  blame  Avould  fall  on  her. 

He  laughed  reassuiingly,  and  said  as  he  went 
on  his  way  that  he  guessed  it  would  be  found; 
she  needn't  worry  about  it. 

Wherever  slie  went,  in  her  shopping  excursion, 
she  had  something  to  say  about  the  strange  oc- 
currence which  had  disturbed  her  tranquillity. 
She  stopped  several  women  on  the  street ;  they 
listened  politely  enough,  some  of  them  looked 
at  her  askance,  her  eccentric  agitation  was  so 
unusual.  Slie  called  to  see  ^^•s.  Coulson,  but 
the  door  was  locked. 

"  She  is  talking  it  over  with  the  neighbors," 
she  said  to  herself,  and  a  sharp  twinge  which 
she  did  not  understand  pierced  her  heart. 


t  ■ 


fi 


THE  ACCUSED  AND  A  rESSIMIST.        155 

A  week  went  by  and  nothing  transpired  to 
throw  light  upon  the  matter.  Mrs.  Jeffers  per- 
formed her  housework  mechanically  and  went 
marketing  every  day  as  usual,  but  a  strange 
shrinking  timidity  had  taken  the  place  of  her 
former  loquacity.  She  fancied  that  the  people 
she  met  treated  her  coldly.  She  divined  what 
was  in  their  minds  and  was  ill  at  ease.  Slie  was 
careful  to  avoid  all  personal  intercourse,  and 
hurried  along  the   street  with  downcast  eyes. 

When  Thursday  came  around  she  prepared  to 
attend  the  sewing  circle  with  such  mingled  sen- 
sations of  pain,  fear,  and  Avounded  pride  that 
she  was  a  stranger  to  herself,  not  knowing  how 
to  interpret  her  own  simplest  moods  and  im- 
pulses. 

"  I  am  the  Accused ,"  she  soliloquized.  "  I  see 
it  in  people's  faces.  I  hear  it  in  their  voices. 
Oh,  me  !  After  forty  years  of  blameless  living 
and  regular  church  attendance  and  following 
the  golden  rule,  to  end  up  like  this  !  My  poor 
husband  would  turn  over  in  his  grave  if  he  knew 
it.  It's  an  awful  thing  to  be  an  innocent 
accused." 

As  she  lifted  her  shawl  from  its  peg  in  the 
closet,  something  clicked  sharply  against  the 
wall.  A  quick  investigation  revealed  the  cause. 
There,  caught  in  the  fringe  of  her  shawl,  gleamed 
the  missing  diamond  brooch. 


:;^d 


m 

lir 


#1 


M 


i 


156    SAINTS,  SINNESS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE 

She  started  back  at  the  siglit  and  an  exclama- 
tion of  astonishment  choked  in  her  throat.  "  I 
took  it,  after  all,"  she  muttered.  "  I  stole  that 
thing  without  knowing  it." 

She  sat  down  helplessly,  and  pondered  the 
situation,  keeping  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  glitter- 
ing ornament.     After  her  first  surprise  and  relief 
at  the  discovery  of  so  simple  an  explanation,  had 
somewhat  subsided,  she   foresaw  a  fresh  com- 
plication.    «  Who  would  be  likely  to  believe  her 
story?     The  neighbors   had  shown   plainly  in 
the  last  few  days  by  their  distant  manner  and 
suspicious  glances  that  they  doubted  her  honesty 
Would  they  not  be  incl'iied  to  regard  the  simple* 
statement  of  the  truth  as  an  invention  to  cover 
her  guilt?" 

Her  tears  fell  fast  at  the  thought.  For  ur> 
wards  of  an  hour  she  sat  in  her  bedroom  in  the 
cane  rocker  meditating  upon  the  wisest  course  to 
pursue.  For  the  first  time  in  her  long  life  of  abso- 
lute  integrity,  Martha  Jeffei-s  was  tempted  A 
straightforward  explanation,  it  seemed  to  her, 
would  be  equivalent  to  a  confession  of  tlie  wrong- 
with  which  she  was  charged,  would  in  fact  be  the 
last  conclusive  link  in  the  chain  of  circum- 
stantial evidence. 

«  Why  not  resort  to  some  expedient  artifice  " 
Wliy  not  drop  the  broocli  into  the  basket  of 
scraps  which  stood   near  the  sewing  circle  oq 


.  \ 


I 

I 


in 


.  \ 


a- 
I 

It 

e 

r- 
f 
i 

V 

I 


THE  ACCUSE!)  AND  A  PESSIMIST.        157 

Tliuiydays  and  suggest  casually  in  tlie  course  of 
conversation  that  it  might  perhaps  liave  been 
thrown  into  it  with  the  waste  pieces  ?  " 

But  there  was  a  bare  possibility  that  Mrs.  Coul- 
son  liad  taken  the  precaution  to  empty  the  basket 
and  examine  its  contents,  so  tliis  plan  was  re- 
jected as  unfeasible.  At  the  end  of  much  fruit- 
less conjecture  and  casting  about  for  a  plausible 
equivocation  that  would  exonerate  her  from 
even  the  appearance  of  culpability,  she  broke 
down  utterly. 

"  Oh,  Lord,  I  am  a  sinful  woman,"  she  said 
brokenly.  « I've  been  hard  on  sinners  all  my 
life.  I've  declared  that  there  was  justice  in 
their  misery  and  downfall,  and  now  I  am  caught 
in  a  net  myself.  I  am  judged  out  of  my  own 
mouth ;  my  heart  is  full  of  deceit,  I've  been 
tempted  to  act  a  lid  to  make  things  easier  for 
myself,  I  haven't  any  more  backbone  than  a 
jelly  fish.     I'm  all  unhinged." 

Finally  her  strict  Puritan  conscience  prevailed.- 
Something  said  to  her :  "  Tell  the  truth  and 
don't  be  afraid."  She  dried  her  eyes,  donned 
the  unlucky  shawl,  wrapped  the  brooch  carefully 
in  tissue  paper  and  put  it  in  her  pocket  and 
hurried  away  to  the  Ladies  Aid  meeting.  As 
she  went  forth  into  the  balmy,  spring-like  air 
she  experienced  the  rejuvenescence  which  invari- 
ably follows  a  decisive  step.     She  stopped  every 


158     SAINTS,  SINuXrKS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

man  and  woman  she  met  and  told  tliem  of  Iier 
discovery. 

" It  Avas  caught  in  my  shawl,"  she  said  with 
a  poor  little  attempt  at  a  smile  whiclv  resembled 
a  gleam  of  sunshine  struggling  througli  a  cloud. 
"Looks  almost  as  if  I  stole  it,  doesn't  it?  It 
has  given  me  a  dreadful  turn.  But  I  am  going 
right  over  to  Mrs.  Coulson's  to  tell  her  how  it 
happened." 

Some  listened  ^yitl^  soeret  ?nisgiving  and 
turnedaway  coldly,  uncony-ncf  i,  Son.-  laughed 
and  said  to  themselves  she  v.  ??  n  queer,  excitaUe 
mortal  given  to  makin--  a  f-jj,-  over  trifles;  but 
a  few  wlio  knew  her  well,  and  had  a  sliglit  per- 
ception of  what  the  «  trifle"  might  mean  to  her, 
showed  genuine  sympathy  and  appreciation  of 
the  cinumstances. 

As  she  went  up  the  steps  of  Mrs.  Coulson's 
cottage,  the  sound  of  voices  in  earnest  and  in- 
dignant utterance  issued  tlirough  the  open  door. 

"  It  wouldn't  seem  so  bad  if  she  hadn't  pre- 
tended to  be  sucli  a  saint,  and  has  always  been 
80  do\^  n  on  everybody  who  didn't  toe  the  mark," 
said  one. 

"  When  there  was  any  stone-throwing  to  be 
done  she  was  the  first  to  lend  a  hand,"  said 
another. 

Mrs.  Jeffers  walked  firmly  into  the  parlor. 
The  tongues  were  instantly  stilled.     Seven  ap- 


f 


THE  ACCUSED  AND  A  PESSIMIST.        159 

prehensive,  self-conscious  faces  turned  toward 
the  new-comer,  and  as  many  pair  of  hands  fid- 
geted awkwardly. 

She  stood  by  tlie  table,  her  eyelids  red  and 
swollen,  her  mouth  so  tightly  compressed  that 
It  looked  like  a  faded  magenta  thread.  She 
took  the  small  parcel  from  her  pocket  and 
handed  it  to  Mrs.  Coulson. 

"  There !  "  slie  said.  "  Theie's  your  brooch, 
and  I  hope  I  may  never  see  it  again.  It  lias 
cost  me  more  misery  than  a  death  in  the  family 
would  have  done.  I  took  it  accidentally.  It 
caught  on  the  fringe  of  my  shawl  and  I  suppose 
I  whisked  it  off  the  table  as  I  was  going  out;  I 
didn't  know  till  to-day,  I  liaven't  slept  these 
three  nights,  I've  been  dreadfully  worked  up." 
She  paused,  but  no  one  spoke. 

"I've  sort  of  let  go  my  hold  on  things,  some- 
how, I've  lost  my  bearings ;  I'm  not  like  my- 
self, it's  been  a  lesson  to  me.  All  the  way 
here  I've  been  saying  to  myself :  '  Therefore 
thou  art  inexcusable,  oh,  woman,  wliosoever 
th«u  art  tliat  judgest.' "  There  was  an  embar- 
rassed silence. 

,    "  If  you  don't  believe  me,  I  can't  help  it,"  she 
concluded  lamely. 

"  Of  course,  we  believe  you,"  said  Mrs.  Coul- 
son with  a  kind, disturbed  countenance.  "We 
are  very  sorry  that  any  trouble  has  occurred.     T 


ifff:!? 


I    I 


160    SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

felt  sure  you  must  have  taken  it,  it  couldn't 
liave  gone  anywhere  else.  But  I  didn't  think 
of  the  shawl  fringe.  You  must  accept  our  re- 
grets and  apologies  for  anything  unkind  that 
may  have  been  said.  You  are  certainly  cleared 
of  suspicion." 

"  There's  been  a  good  deal  of  talk,"  continued 
Mrs.  Jeffers,  "  but  I've  nothing  against  any  of 
you.  I've  got  back  my  reputation,  in  a  sense, 
but  it  doesn't  look  the  same  as  it  did.  I  don't 
suppose  it  can  ever  be  fixed  up  as  good  as  new." 

"Sit  down,  Mrs.  Jeffers,"  said  Mrs.  Graham 
with  a  tremor  in  her  voice,  as  she  pushed  a  chair 
forward. 

«No,  thank  you,  I'll  not  stay,  I  can't  settle 
to  work;  I'm  dreadful  restless,  I  don't  know 
what's  come  over  me,  I  feel  twenty  years  older 
than  I  did  the  last  day  I  was  here.  I  think  I'll 
walk  over  and  see  that  strange  lady,  the  Pessi- 
mist, as  she  calls  herself." 

"  I  wouldn't  if  I  were  you,"  said  Mrs.  Coulson, 
who  felt  extremelyuncomfortableand  was  grate- 
fill  for  the  introduction  of  a  new  topic.  "  Peo- 
ple say  she  is  insane." 

"People  say  a  great  many  things  that  are 
not  quite  true,"  returned  Mrs.  Jeffers.  "  Like 
as  not  she  is  only  unhappy.  It  amounts  almost 
to  the  same  thing  sometimes,  and,  anyway,  she 
is  a  human." 


THE  ACCUSED  AND  A  PESSIMIST.        161 

She  turned  and  went  slowly  out  of  the  room. 
The  seven  women  followed  her  reluctantly  with 
their  eyes.  They  hud  an  uneasy  conviction 
that  they  had  not  pioved  equal  to  the  occasion, 
that  something  more  remained  to  be  said  on 
their  part.  But  the  demand  had  come  too  sud- 
denly for  their  slow  perception,  and  they  con- 
tented themselves  with  the  leflection  that  by 
next  Thursday  they  would  have  adjusted  their 
thoughts  to  the  situation  and  be  able  to  say  the 
right  words  in  the  light  way. 

In  a  few  minutes  Mrs.  Jeffers  had  reached 
the  cottage  which,  for  several  months,  had  been 
regarded  by  the  villagei-s  with  sometliing  like 
superstitious  dread.  It  appeared  to  be  under  a 
spell  of  quiet,  slumberous  beauty.  Not  a  sound 
was  audible.  Murmuring  winds  stirred  the  lilac 
bushes  which  grew  before  the  windows,  pigeons 
fluttered  around  the  roof,  and  the  sunshine  en- 
folded it  in  a  golden  embrace;  but,  from  the  out- 
side  there  w^w  no  evidence  of  human  activity. 

On  a  placard  tacked  to  the  door  she  read  this 
singular  announcement : 

"  I  am  a  Pessimist.  I  have  no  dealings  with 
humanity.  No  one  need  call  here  but  the 
butcher,  the  baker,  and  the  grocer." 

She  knocked,  and  presently  the  door  was  • 


mt. ' 


m 


Hi 

III 


ir 


■A 


162    «yl/.VTS,  SINNfJItS  ANT)  QUEEIi  PEOPLE. 

opened  so  silently  that  sh  i ;  (      •  vlicn   tlie 

tall,  lissom  creature  of  her  ii.oai.ations  stood 
before  her,  in  all  her  avstlietic  loveliness ;  like 
a  being  from  another  world. 

"  Haven't  you  read  this  sign  ?  "  asked  tl^o 
strange  lady  in  a  soft,  musical  voico  uke  tiie 
silvery  tinkle  of  running  wateis. 

"  Yes,  but  I  tluuight  I'd  come  just  tlie  same," 
replied  Mis.  Jc^urs  with  matter-of-fact  brisk- 
ness which  contrasted  oddly  with  tho  manner 
of  her  fair  questioner.  "  I  am  out  of  conceit 
with  the  general  run  of  humanity  myself.  But 
we  can't  none  of  us  help  being  humans  wliether 
we  lik(  it  or  not,  and  we  might  as  well  try  to 
cheer  one  another." 

A  cordial  intelligence  flaslied  into  the  fault- 
less face. 

"Come,"  slie  said,  opening  tire  door  wide, 
and  waving  her  hand  with  a  graceful,  imj)erious 
gesture. 

Mrs.  JefFers  was  transfi-<^d  for  seveir  mo- 
ments by  the  Oriental  luxur^  of  the  room.  Tlie 
furniture  was  simple  enough,  such  as  could 
be  procured  from  the  ucarcoi,  city  upliolis .  ler. 
But  the  decorations, — pictures,  rich  draperies 
of  antique  silk  and  velvet,  fancy  pillows,  cush- 
ions, rugs,  and  rare  bric-a-brac,  con;  lec^  to 
make  a  vista  of  vrriegated  color  suf  as  he 
had  never  seen  or  dreamed  of.    In  the  centre 


'•Hi    , 


¥ 


rA 


THE  ACCUSED  AND  A  PESSIMIST.        163 

of  this  miniatui'o  ait  gallery,  gleamed  tlie  beau- 
tiful  occupant  like  a  rare  gem   in  a  brilliant 
setting.     She  was  slim,  supple,  and  strong,  of 
stately  presence  and  classic  propoitions.    Golden 
tresses  were  wound  around  her  head,  and  fell 
in   wavy   rings  on   hei-  brow.     Her  eyes   were 
mellow  brown,  with  shifting  liglits  and  shadows 
in    their  depths,   rays   of   poetic  hope  and  in- 
spiration, clouds  of  sadness,     ')ysses  of  despair. 
Every  movement,  so  instinct  with  young  eager 
viudity,  yet  blended  with  the  inertness  which 
comes    )f  mental  conflict,  told  the  story  of  a  sud- 
den nervous  sJioek  which  had  resulted  in  confu- 
sion of  mind,  and  the  loss  of  the  ordinary  estimate 
of  modes  and  manners.     She  looked  as  if  she 
hau  been   i>oin  for  happiness,  for  a  beautiful, 
lovel      life  set  to  i\ie  rhythm  of  noble  asj>ira- 
tioit  . 

"I  supp  '  I  ought  to  introduce  myself," 
said  the  visitoi.  "  1  am  Mi-s.  Jeffers,  the 
Accused." 

The  vague  eyes  rested  on  her  with  an  en- 
quiring, child-like  expression. 

"  The  Accused  ?  " 

"Yes,  haven't  you  hea.  ?  But  of  course 
you're  so  shut  off  from  everybody  that  you  don't 
hear  what's  going  on.  It's  ail  right  nov  ,  I 
found  the  uroodi  hanging  on  my  shawl.  I 
don't  think  I  know  i/our  name? " 


'i  I 


M< 

KJ 

:'■ 

■ 

'•'1 

1 

.^I^B 

.;!».».  I^a 

'i  :>]^l 

'' 


i  I 


164  .xAiNTs,  siyNm.,  Ai,n  qvKmi  people. 
The  girl  imiled  dreamily. 

I  ItZT  ■ "  ""f  "<="■»''»"««. "  responsibility. 
I  I.oppecl  nune  ,vl,en  I  took  '  uve  of  the  wo.ld 
".a  came   l,ere  to  live  alone.    Did  you  eve 

tuiy  fiom  the  moment  of  our  birth  ?  We  b  >v« 
no  «''o.ee  in  the  plan  of  our  existenee.  W„  Z 
"Ot  even  'eeide  under  what  eonditions  ,ve  would  ' 
prefer  to  begin  life,  or  what  kinds  of  in  .  ,  ed 
qmht.es  we  would  *ish  to  have  infused  into  „  ,r 
veins.    These  things  are  taken  out  of  our  hands 

ur,':^a'^r-*''"'™''^'""P°''"''^-S 
our  welfare  in  this  world  and  the  next." 

Why.  yes.     That's  true  enough.     We  < in't 

';Some  of  us  are  given  the  dangerous  cift 
of  imagination  and  fine  sensibility,  Oie  love  of 

and  we  are  placed  in  an  environment  where  we 
would  have  been  far  liappier  as  dairy  mridl- 
and  there  are  hirelings  who  were  inteiurerb; 
nature  for  a  higher  social  gi^de,  .and  they  too 
suffer  from  the  incongruity  between  their  i„" 
stmcts  and  surroundings.  There  are  women 
^hose  hearts  run  to  love  as  rive.,  run  dowiT  o 

ZZuX  ''''"^""" '"'-''-- 

"  '''"  '"V  'J"  I  speak  of  these  things?    My 


i 

■I 


' 


TllK  ACaUSKb  AXI)  A  r^RSStMlsT.        105 

lips  have  been  bound  by  silence  for  many  a 
d:iy.  Ob,  yes,  for  many  a  long  weary  day. 
Rut  you  have  broken  the  spell  aii<l  thoughts 
rush   to   my  mind  unbidden.     It  hurts   me  to 

talk,  it  brings  back  the  pain "     She  paused 

and  her  oyes  filled  with  teai-s. 

"  I  understand,"   said  Mrs.  Jeffers  feelingly. 
"  Your  mind  is  sick.    I've  been  like  that  myself." 
"Have  you?     Did  you  lose   some   one  you 
loved  ?  " 

**  Yes,'  years  ago  my  husband  died." 
"  Ah,  but  it  was  not  so  hard  to  lose  him  in 
that  way;  you  liad  him  while  he  was  in  the 
world,  but  my  loss  was  more  bi  J  ler.  The  man  I 
loved,  who  was  to  have  been  my  husband, 
doubted  me.  We  had  a  misunderstanding,  and  I 
was  too  proud  to  explain,  so  he  left  me.  He 
is  married  now.  I  was  in  the  church  and  wit- 
nessed the  ceremony.  I  saw  the  bride  go  up 
the  aisle  leaning  on  her  father's  arm ;  then  I  saw 
him,  mi/  love,  meet  her  at  the  altar.  I  heard  the 
words  which  made  them  husband  and  wife; 
and  then  I  felt  a  strange,  paralyzing  jmin  as  if 
every  pulse  of  my  being  had  ceased  to  beat. 
It  was  like  death,  a  waking  death  in  the  midst 
of  hideous,  grotesque  images.  Oh,  for  the  silent 
grave,  where  I  could  neither  ^ee  nor  hear  !  I 
walked  for  hours  that  night,  but  it  was  only 
my  body   that  kept  going  on  and  on  in  that 


ill 


!     '■■\^ 


mmless  way  with  nothing  to  euicle  it      lu 

-  My  hands  and  L^wf  ke,  ri^^^'^f  '^-'^• 
•nind  has  been  all  over  IL  vMIn  ^  ,'^',  ^'"  "'^ 
that  diamond  brooch!"  ^'  '""'''"^  ^""^ 

PeliLilf  l.s"'*  '  ^"^  """"''"  --'«'"'«'l  the 

twyr;„edti:;vronrv:r^^ 

»ad  spirit  moved  and  breathed  i   Tne  but  t   ^^' 
"ot  J,  and  tl,at  pain  never  left  ILea  t    ™' 

IsIeDt      T.?!T  '  "'^  ^'''^  consciousness  ere 

i  Slept.     In  the  inorninff  it  was  still  fl,., 

life."  ^  *""«  "  ^»'>'  tike  my 

s.«la.ly"'t'rL^°"''-f  "-visitor 

feel,  you're  aif  unhingt"    It^^t  ^m"  ^T 
like  Hmf      Q  '"fee".     Its  dreadful  to  be 


,    / 


m 


Tan  ACCffSEb  AND  A  PESSIMIST.  167 
jreck  Of  the  faith,  and  rcting  like  a  deceitful 
coward  ;  and  all  hecause  of  an  accident  that  han- 
pened  contmrywise,  jou  might  say.  I  never 
realized  before  how  close  badness  is  to  good- 
ness    They're  not  separated  by  the  width  of  a 

trr";-,  ^,"'^S"«^^I'"'  '"'Wng  too  much, 
your  eyelids  droop  as  if  you  were  tired.     WhJ 

place'?""    ""'""   ''"'"   *°  ""'  """""-li^l'  little 

repTfedf"'   '""""'  ''"''"  '"'"'  ''"  ««»'■'  »'"1 
"  To  get  away  from  the  ,vorld.     I  was  becom- 
ing  a  burden  and  trouble   to  my  friends      It 
worried  them  to  .ee  me  sitting  all  day  with'  my 
hands  in  my  lap;  and  though  I  made  an  effoH 
fo.  their  sakes,  I  couldn't  shake  off  the  lethargy 
that  was  creeping  over  me." 
"I've  been  like  that  too,"  said  M,«.  Jeffe... 
Yesterday  I  sat  in  my  chair  all  the  afternoon, 
doing  nothing  but  thinking  till  my  head  wa^ 
ready  to  split.     A  cobweb  wi.  waving  in  a  Z 

my  it."       '  ''     "  "  "P  """■  ''  '"  ^''^ 

a,.I\''!u"M'''  "'y»"'"'PPi"«'«.'  to  be  observed 
and  talked  about,"  resumed  the  other,  "so  I 
tried  to  mingle  in  society  as  formerly,  but  it 
m  no  use;  I  was  not  the  same;  the/noticed 
Ae  difference  and  that  hurt  me.    When  I  at 


^1 


m: 


168    SAmfs,  smi^ERs  AND  ^UEEB  PEOPLE. 

tempted  to  be  gay,  I  was  foolish.     My  thoughts 
went  111  one  direction  and  my  words  in  another. 
Wlien  I  dropped  into  my  natural  mood  of  quiet 
sadness  I  made  others  uncomfortable,  so  I  left 
It  all.     Our  family  physician  said  I  was  '  the 
victim  of  fixed  ideas,  that  I  was  morbidly  self- 
centred,'  and  they  talked  of  sending  me  to  a  hos- 
pital.    They  were  all  wrong,  for  all  I  needed 
was   quietness,  freedom  from  observation,  and 
liberty  to  be  myself.     Oh,  you  don't  know  Imw 
I  loved  him  !  "  she  exclaimed  passionately,  lock, 
ing   her  hands  together.   "Every  fibre  of  my 
being  yearned  for  him.     My  heart  leaped  at  his 
touch,  and  my  eyes  ached  to  behold  him.     The 
world  became  new  and  beautiful  because  of  tlie 
love  I  bore  him  I    But  I  lost  him,  and  now  I 
am  alone." 

Mrs.  Jeffers  coughed  and  wiped  the  moisture 
irom  her  eves. 

"  Sentiment  is  a  very  nice  thing  for  younff 
overs  to  begin  on,"  she  said,  "it  oils  the  domes- 
tic  machinery,  jind  gives  it  a  good  st^rt.  John 
and  I  did  considerable  sweethearting  in  our  time. 
«ut  atter  a  man  has  been  married  a  little  while 
he  cares  more  about  a  well-ordered  house  and 
good  meals  than  he  does  for  sentiment." 

''  That  is  true.  I've  noticed  that,  "said  the 
giH,  smihng  sadly.  1  am  not  naturally  domestic, 
but  nothing  would  have  been  left  undone  in 


f 


THE  ACCUSED  AND  A  PESSIMISf.        IC^ 

my  house  whicli  would  have  contributed  to  hia 
comfort.  But  why  talk  of  it  ?  It  is  over  now. 
The  one  lesson  to  be  learned  in  this  life  is  renun- 
ciation. I've  been  learning  it  in  different  ways 
for  years.  We  have  no  choice.  We  aie  born, 
and  that  is  the  worst  thing  that  can  liappen  to 
us.  Death  may  bring  us  nothing  better,  but  at 
any  rate,  it  can  usher  us  into  nothing  woise." 

Mi-s.  Jeffers  rose  to  go.     "  You   are  getting 
beyond  my  depth,"  she  said,  extending  her  lace- 
mittened  hand.     "  But  I'm  real  glad  we've  -had 
this  nice  visit.     I've  been  thinking  about  you  a 
good  deal.     I  was  prejudiced    against  you  on 
account  of  your  living  alone,  but  I  see  now  that 
it's  just  because  you're  unhinged,  same  as  I've 
been  this  last  two  weeks.     Misery  is  dreadful 
unsettling  and  demoralizing.     I'll   drop  in  to- 
morrow and  we'll  talk  things  over,  I  can  be  a 
help  to  you,  I'm  sure.    You've  had  hard  luck, 
but  oh,  my  dear,  no  matter  what  happens  we 
mustn't  forget  that  we  are  all  humans.     I'm 
going  over  to  see  Mi's.  Parsons  now,  for  I  hear 
she's  laid   up.     They  say  it's   neuralgia,  but  I 
think  it's  her  mind  tliat's  sick.     Good-bye  I " 


;    M 


TWO  MEN  AND  A  MADONNA. 


It  was  the  last  day  of  the  old  year.    p„r 
nearly  a  week  the  drift,  of  soft  snow  had  been 
gmdually    y,e.di„g    to    the  sun's    pe:.„asive 
warmth  and  melting  away  into  sln.sh,  but  a 
sharp  toueh  of  frost  during  the  nighthad  formed 
a  th.„  veneering  of  ice  whieh  was  t.-eacherous 
to  the   unwary  pedestrian.    But  for  the  most 
part,  the  hurrymg  crowds  upon  the  city  streets 
realized  in  the  midst  of  pressing  demands  of 
business  and  pleasure  the  necessity  of  caution, 
and  walked  upon  the  slippeiy  pavement  with  a 

Z^rr  ''™'''^'  *"■■  *''"  "■■'f^'y  »f  'if«  and 
lunb  that  was  not  conducive  to  elegance 

A  short  portly  gentleman,  whose  speed  was 

Z^^  L-"-*^''^'"'  ••>■  «'«  --S>'t  of  a  large 
yal.se  m  addition  to  his  own  avoirdupois,  sutl- 
denly  collided  with  a  slim,  wiry-looking  young 
fellow,  causing  him  ,«  reel  and  g,u,p  at  the  aif 

The  elder  man  was  profuse  in  his  apologies. 

1  beg  your  pardon,  sir ;  I  am  very  sorry,"  he 

170 


• 


TWO  MEN  AND  A  MADONNA 


171 


said  puffily,  through  a  thick  moustache,  "but 
this  ice  is  to  bhinie.  I  can  haitlly  keep  from 
sliding  on  all  fours.  Beastly  climate,  sir, 
beastly  !  One  day  fro;st  and  snow,  the  next  rain, 
and  the  next  fog  and  ice  and  broken  shins. 
Pouf,  it's  beastly  !  I  wouldn't  live  in  Ontario 
again  for  anything." 

"  Ditto,"  said  the  other  laughing.  «  I  quite 
agree  with  you.  I've  just  come  from  Manitoba 
and  can't  say  that  I  appreciate  tliis  weatlier." 

"Manitoba?  What  part?  That's  where  I 
live,"  exclaimed  the  fiist  speaker  in  Ins  gusty 
accent,  evidently  divided  between  the  impera- 
tiveness of  speed  and  a  desire  to  be  communi- 
cative. "  I  came  East  to  spend  a  week  with  my 
daughter.  Ah,  there's  my  car  !  "  liolding  up  liis 
cane  as  a  signal  to  the  conductor.  "Good- 
bye, sir  ;  hope  I'll  run  against  you  again,  more 
gently  next  time  !  "  He  started  off  across  the 
street  at  a  comical  little  jog-trot. 

The  young  man  continued  his  course,  steady- 
ing himself  as  l)est  he  could,  and,  presently  turn- 
ing off  from  the  mjiin  thoroughfare,  paused  be- 
fore a  shabby  three-story  building  which  dis- 
played in  a  front  window  the  familiar  announce- 
ment :  "  Board  and  Lodging." 

He  laiig  the  bell,  a/id  m.  there  was  no  sound 
of  voice  or  footstep  in  ar,^  .ver  to  the  summons, 
he  lang  a  second  time  mme  peremptorily,  glanc- 


i  i; 

"f ' 


il' 

'i 


V  Mi 


I -J 


172    SAINTS.  smjft;us  AND  QITMEB  PEOPLE. 

ing  With  ill-concealed  disgust  at  Lis  poverty- 
stnckeii  suiiouiidiiuro      ti.„  i"'veny- 

of  feet  insi,l»  »     ,^'  ,  "  '""^  "  ^''"ffling 

ot  tee    .  ,Mde,  a  slow,  heavy  n.ovement   whicll 
told  that  somebody  was  at  hvst  arouse,)   Zl 
I..ese„tly  the  door   was  opened  and  T  st, 
b^wny  Irishwo„,a„,  with  ifu.hed  tL  ^/^ 

''  Does  Kobert  Fitzgen.ld  live  here  ?  " 
K  es,  he  does,  an'  sorra  I  am  to  s.iv  it     «     ' 

)  ouse  to  ax  sich  a  question  as  that.     Can't  I  si! 
down  to  me  own  fireside  an'  talc'  a  dhrao  n  ,  , 
and   quietness  widout  bein' sl,o<^c  un  td 'T, 
door-bell?     Can't   I?   savs  In  •.  ^^ 

„.,,.u>>    I.  "    ■■•    f>.ys   J.      Bekase    if    I 

«.>'it,  she  continued  with  maudlin  lojfic  "I 
■  mne  to  move.  This  is  the  third  toime  I've 
»  lulled  the  sugar  in  the   whiskey  an'  "Lr  . 

W».o„e,for.bya,lthe;riofs,;;:XLT 

|elbeouto„thestlirateaforea„itherwS 
he  don  t  pay  some  mit.     Kin  I  ^^^  y^ 

.Ui«  mi'tefhim  so  wi^  r  ^"'r*^  "''■ 
mm  «o  with  Missus  Murphy's 


I- " 


!  'I 


TWO  MEN  AND  A  MADONNA.  I73 

compliments,  beiii's  as  ye're  his  frind.  Moight 
«is  well  lodge  a  tramp  as  a  artist,  says  I,  for 
niver  a  cint  kin  ye  git  out  of  ayther  o'  tl.im. 
First  door  to  tire  right.  Don't  take  tlio  trouble 
to  knock,  for  when  he's  dabbin'  at  his  picters  he 
wouldn't  liear  the  crack  o'doom,  worse  luck  to 
him  for  a  good-for-notliin'  spalpane  !  " 

The  newcomer,  still  pursued  by  the  indignant 
complaints  of  tl,e  iriite  landlady,  mounted  the 
rickety  stairs  and  was  met  on  the  landing  by 
a  tall,  handsome  young  fellow  wliose  dreamy 
brown  eyes  and  wavy  hair  brushed  carelessly 
back  from  a  broad,  intellectual  foi-ehead  were 
strikingly  suggestive  of  ],is  profession.  He 
lounged  forward  with  an  indolent  grace  that 
was  habitual. 

"Hello,  Henry!"  lie  said,  heartily,  g  ving 
the  newcomer  his  liand.  "  I'm  awfully  glad  to 
see  you.  I  expecteil  you'd  d-op  in  wlien  I  heard 
you  were  in  the  city.     Come  into  my  den." 

As  he  spoke  he  ushered  his  visitor  into  the 
presence  of  the  most  incongruous  assortment  of 
furnituiv,  brie-a-brac,  and  rubbish  that  one  could 
well  imagine.  Paintings  were  scattered  all  over 
in  various  stages  of  evolution,  some  of  them 
standing  upon  easels  and  shelves,  a  number  of 
them  huddled  together  in  out-of-the-way  corners, 
and  a  few  ignominiously  prostrated  face  dowa- 
ward  upon  the  floor. 


H  Sil 


lllf 


174    SAINTS,  smNEBS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

Boxes  of  paint-tubes,  bruslies,  and  bottles  of 
oil  adorned  the  window-ledge,  in  utter  disie- 
gard  of  systematic  arrangement.  The  uncar- 
peted  floor  in  its  grimy  coloring  testified  to  a 
strained  and  uncivil  acquaintanceship  Avith  soap 
and  water.  Evidently  it  was  a  long  time  since 
.tliey  iiad  met  on  equal  terms. 

Tiie  funiiture  was  meagre  in  quality,  and  of 
the  old-fashioned  shape  and  texture  which  char- 
acterizes the  saUable  matter  of  auction-rooms 
and  second-hand  furniture  shops.  From  one 
large  hair-cloth  chair  the  straw  stuffing  pro- 
truded indecorously,  while  another,  which  had 
flaunted  in  its  younger  days  in  a  gaudy  chintz 
cover,  now  bore  on  its  faded  surface  the  ravages 
ot  wear  and  tear. 

There  were  unmistakable  indications  that  this 
was  a  bachelor's  apartment.  Nothing  seemed 
to  have  a  place  of  its  own,  nothing  looked  at 
ease  m  the  unsuitable  place  to  which  it  had 
been  consigned.  Two  old  castoff  I,ats  lay  in 
one  corner  among- the  pictures,  and  in  close 
proximity  to  several  paii-s  of  boots  was  a  plate 
which  contained  a  half  loaf  of  bread  and  a  small 
pat  of  butter. 

"Not  very  tidy  in  here,"  said  Fitzgerald  care- 
lessly.  "  Step  over  the  stuff  and  take  a  seat. 
1  house-clean  once  a  week,  but  before  the  regular 
day  comes  round  things  are  in  rather  a  bad  stat^ 


Ipf"1 


TWO  MEN  AND  A  MADONNA.  I75 

Now  just  keep  quiet  for  a  Uioment,  like  n  good 
fellow,  while  I  add  the  finishing  touches  to  this 
portrait,  and  then  I'll  be  at  your  service,  Salto- 
gither  intoirely,'  as  my  amiable  landlady  would 
say." 

He  returned  to  his  easel  and  made  a  few  cau- 
tious, hesitating  strokes  with  his  biush,  then  drew 

back  and  regarded  theeffectsomewhatdubiously. 

"  Come  here  and  take  a  look  at  this,  will 
you  ?  "  he  said.     "  I  am  not  satisfied  with  it." 

His  friend  obeyed  with  alacrity,  placing  him- 
self in  a  position  which  showed  the  picture  to 
the  best  advantage. 

"  Do  you  know  that  man  ?  "  jisked  Fitrgerald. 

"  Why,  yes,  that's  Judge  Vetterson." 

"  Does  it  look  like  him  ?  " 

"  Well,"  returned  the  other  cautiously,  as  he 
stepped  a  pace  backward  and  assumed  the  pose 
of  a  connoisseur,  "  it  does  and  it  doesn't.  I  can't 
say  that  it  is  a  natural  likeness.  There  is  some- 
thing about  that  eye— is  it  straight,  do  vou 
think?"  ^  ^ 

"  As  straight  as  your  eye,  Henry.  But  if  you 
say  the  picture  doesn't  look  like  the  man— that 
settles  it,  though  I  don't  suppose  you  know  a 
good  painting  from  achromo." 

He  laughed  mirthlessly,  and  snatching  the 
canvas  from  the  easel,  hurled  it  across  the  room, 
where  it  descended  ingloriously  among  the  boots 


M 


rfi 


I) 


17G    SAINTS,  STNNEItS  AND  qUEEIl  PEOPLE. 

ami  bread-and-butter.  Soniei^et  laughed  too  at 
the  sudden  cojitact  of  ethei-eal  art  witli  the  un- 
lovely details  of  sordid  existence. 

"That's  my  lunch,"  said  tlie  artist,  observing 
that  his  friend's  glance  rested  on  the  phite. 
"  Sometimes  I  urn  too  busy  to  go  out  for  my 
meals,  so  I  keep  a  snack  up  here,  but  that's  stale 
now,  let  it  go." 

"I  ran  in  to  have  a  talk  with  you  about  the 
ball  to-n.ght.  'f  was  good  of  you  to  get  me  an 
invitation  ;  but  I've  been  out  of  society  so  loner 
that  I  have  no  desire  to  go  back  to  it.  I  never 
did  care  a  great  deal  for  that  sort  of  thing  I 
would  rather  have  a  quiet  cliat  with  you  here 
about  old  times,  than  U.  go  to  the  grandest  ball 
oi  the  season." 

"  I'»n  flattered  by  ,  .■,,,  preference,  but  you  see 
I  am  going  to  this  alBu.  to-night.     I  woul.bi't 
stay  away  for  anything  !  I  am  afraid  the  cold  of 
Manitoba  Jias  penetrated  your  system.     'Twas 
not  always  thus,  Henry!     It  can't  be  possible 
you  ve  gro^yn  impervious  to  tlie  cliarms  of  the 
fair  sex  ?    They're  almost  all  that  make  life  en- 
durable  to  me.     All  the  Slite  of  the  city  will 
be  at  tliis  ball-beauty  and  aristocracy,  as  well 
as  a  generous  sprinkling  of  worthy  but  less  fa- 
vored  mortals.     Oh  !  by  the  way,  I've  a  picture 
here  1  would  like  to  have  you  see,-something 
rather  beyond  the  ordinary." 


TIVO  MEN  A  VD  A  MADONNA.  177 

As  he  spoke,  i.o  cios.sea  the  room  t..  a  «lielf 
whcrooa  rested  a  large  canv...  wliieh  was 
securely  screened  from  vulgar,  prying  eyes  of 
the  inartistic  comrades  who  sometimes  chose 
to  coii^.egate  here  of  an  evening,  for  thp  - 
poses  of  social  enjoyment.  Almost  re  verenl 
lifted  tlio  covering,  and,  holding  the  pictu  in 
a  good  light,  asked  with  ill-concealed  triumph : 

"  Well,  old  man,  liow  does  that  strike  you  ?" 
T  on  t  give  vent  o  any  sacrilegious  expressions 
of  admiration,  for  it  is  the  Virgin  Mary  you  are 
gazing  at.     It  wouldn't  be  necessary  to  d ve  tin's 

in^liminary  iufonnation  to  everybody,  but  you're 
a  little  bit  abtuse  in  mattei^  of  art,  you  know." 

Somei^etgave  no  attention  to  fhis  piece  of  am- 
iable raillery,  but  devoted  himself  unreservedly 
to  a  contemplation  of  the  picture. 

It  represented  the  holy  girl-mother,  in  an  atti- 
tude  of  devout  meditation.  The  calm,  pure  face 
was  framed  in  masses  of  light  brown  hair;  the 
large,  trustful  blre  eyes  were  raised  heaven- 
ward,  a  soft  filmy  drapery  rippled  away  from 
the  exquisitely  curved  neck  and  shoulders  like 
a  mist  shot  with  sunlight,-a  drapery  which 
was  adapted  to  enhance  rather  than  conceal  the 
beauties  of  Nature's  own  handiwork. 

"  CapiUil !  "  exclaimed  Somerset  as  he  con- 
c  uded  his  scrutiny.  "  It  isn't  exactly  a  new 
Idea,  but  you  seem  tc   ' 


1$ 


ave  impoved  on  ifc  in 


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MICROCOPY   RESOLUTION   TKT  CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


tU5 

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^    APPLIED  IIVHGE 


Inc 


1653  East  Main  Street 

Rochester,  New  York        14609       USA 

(716)  482  -  0300  -  Phone 

(716)  288-5989  -Fax 


178     SAINTS,  SINNEliS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

Bome  subtle  way  that  I  can  hardly  describe. 
You  were  fortunate  in  securing  such  a  saintly 
model;  whois  she?" 

"  She's  a  poor  girl— one  of  the  shabby  genteel 
class  Avhom  it  is  a  real   chaiity  to  help,"  said 
Fitzgerald  as  he  returned  the   painting  to  its 
place.     "Her  fatlier  lost  his  wealth  in  some  iai- 
sane  speculation,  and  then  died  in  the  most  in- 
considerate Avay,  leaving  his  two  daughters  to 
face  the  cold  wolid  and  support  themselves  and 
their  mother   as   best  they   could.      They  had 
never  been  taught  to  work,  so,  of  course,  they 
had  to  go  in  for  something  in  the  decorative  line, 
though  I  believe  this  one,  the  elder,  has  become 
very  practical  and  is  the  mainstay  of  the  family. 
"  They  had  heavy  debts  to  pay  last  summer  and 
had  hard  work  to  pull  through.     She  asked  if  I 
had  need  of  a  model,  and  on  the  spur  of  the  mo- 
ment I  said  'Yes,'  and  wondered  afterwards  why 
I  said  it.     As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  didn't  need  her 
at  all ;  but— well,  I  felt  sorry  for  the  girl,  and 
she  is  so  beautiful  that  it  is  an  inspiration  to 
look  at  her,  so  she  sat  as  my  model  for  the  Virgin 
Mary.     I  couldn't  think  of  a  subject  more  ap- 
propriate for  her,  and  that  is  the  result,"  nod- 
ding toward  the  picture.     "  A  waste  of  time  and 
money,  you  will  say,  Somerset,  you  were  always 
practical  to  a  fault ;  but  I  don't  look  at  it  in 
that  light,"      . 


(( 


TWO  MEN  AND  A  MADONNA.  179 

Wliatdoyou  intend  to  do  with  the  picture^ 
Sell  it?" 

"  Perhaps.     I  may  exhibit  it  next  season  in 
the  Academy;  I  have  no  immediate  use  for  it." 
Somerset  laughed  somewhat   cynically.     He 
was  of  a  robust,  practical  mould,  and  had  never 
shown  signs  of  weak  sentimentality.     «  I  am 
sorry  for  you.  Bob,"  he  said  pityingly.     "You 
will  never  be  rich.     The  idea  of  paying  for 
models  when  you  don't  need  them !     That  is 
just  one  in  a  hundred  of  your  shilly-shally  ways. 
You  don't  know  any  more  about  business  than 
a  hen,  and  you  are  as  impulsive  as  a  child.     I 
don't  want  to  make  you  angry,"  lie  added  apol- 
ogetically,  "  but  it  is  the  truth." 

"Thank  you,"  returned   Fitzgerald  with  an 
elaborate  bow  and  a  good-natured  laugh.    «  Don't 
allow   any  unnecessary   considerations  for  my 
feelings  to  interrupt  your  philosophical  remarks ; 
I  find  them  interesting,  and  you  must  know  by 
tliis  time  that  anger  is  not  one  of  my  failings." 
He  was  reclining  at  ease  in  one  of  the  shabby  arm- 
chairs, his  limbs  stretched  out  at  full  length, 
and  his  feet  resting  on  a  foot-stool.     In  these  re- 
spects it  was  a  man's  ordinary  every-day  attitude  ; 
but  it  was  his  droll  expression  of  pensive  resig- 
nation as  he  raised  his  arm  and  laid  his  cheek 
against   his   liand,  woman-like,  that  gave  it  a 
peculiar  piquancy. 


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180  sAiXTs,  stmeBs  aud  qvemb  people. 

"Now,  Ihave  never  been  considered  clever  " 

continued  Somei^et,  Ins  tone  rising  as  CZL 

o  en^oy  this  new  turn  in  the  conveLtion  wS 

,   dmduahty,  the  while  he  administered  reproff  to 
a  needy  companion.  " 

pedantic,  but  he  knew  that  lie  had  more  than  tlm 
ave»ge  amount  of  sound  common.enle,  and  I 

oenents  ot  it  seccund-hand. 
"J  never  distinguished  myself  at  colleffe,"  he 

I  did  accomplish.    It  was  the  other  way  with 

Z17o7'^"':T'^'''^  ^°  easily.thSu 

flther-rtff     ^^"^  '"  ^™*  ^"^  "•    ^''«"  ™y 

were  all Ir  ^     '"  ^'^'^  '""»'^'^'^'  ""d  ^^« 
were  all   thrown  on  our  own  resources,  there 

was  apoor  lookout  for  me.    But  I  did  then  whit 
theTme       """'"  '""""'^^  «>"-  overuLe 
lion..t  job  that  came  to  me  and  took  hold  of  it 
fi.m  y   even  if  it  w.osn't  the  genteel  tliii"g  I 
wanted.     I  pocketed  my  pride.^  I  managed  to 

you    would  scorn   to  handle,  and   by  and   by 
X^had   enough   mon.y  t,   invest  iuManitolI 

"Henry,   I  know  all  about  your  self-made 


T^ro  AtEy  AND  A  Ma DONNA.  1^1 

career ;  it  has  been  a  phenomenal  success,"  said 
Fitzgerald  in  his  drawling  tones. 

"  Yes,'-'  said  the  other  conclusively,  drawing 
a  long  breath  of  satisf.iction,  "  Til  venture  to 
say  that  I  can  make  more  money  in  one  year  on 
my  farm,  than  you  can  in  ten  years  at  your  sub- 
lime profession." 

"  O  ye  gods,  hear  this  sordid  monster  talk  ! " 
exclaimed  Fitzgerald,  running  his  fingers  trag- 
ically through  his  hair.  "He  measures  the  ex- 
tent of  human  happiness  by  paltry  gold !  He 
has  no  fine  sensibilities— no  sensuous  delight  in 
the  mere  pleasure  of  existence!  He  would 
rather  till  the  ground  and  be  honest,  than  revel 
in  the  ecstatic  delights  of  beauty  and  art,  and— 
and  keep  his  landlady  in  arrears,"  he  ended, 
somewhat  irrelevantly. 

"  By  the  way,  Henry,  did  you  observe  what 
a  sweet-spoken  person  she  is?  I  heard  her  ex- 
changing pleasantries  with  you  as  you  came  up- 
staii-s.  Whaca  gentle  voice!  What  an  amia-~ 
ble,  dove-like  temperament!"  He  broke  off 
with  a  rollicking  laugh,  which  his  companion, 
however,  did  not  reciprocate. 

"  You  shouldn't  treat  her  as  you  do,"  he  said 
reprovingly.    "  You  ought  to  pay  her." 

"  Was  the  lovely  Mrs.  Murphy  so  inconsid- 
erate as  to  discuss  my  indebtedness  with  a  man 
who,  for  all  she  knew,  might  be  a  stranger  to 


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182  S4wr,9,  smmna  axd  (^ueeu  people. 

me  ?    Yes,  I  see  slie  was.     Well,  I  ao-ree  with 
yo.,tl.atl„„gl,ttopayhera,„lagoo,„    ,! 
oj^he..  people   l«sides.      My  debts  L  legj. 
ri  e  .p„,   „  „iIU„g-but  the  puvse  is  empty. 
It  .s  no  ple.,su>e  to  me  to  be  dunned  and  threat- 
ened every  hour  of  the  day,  I  can  assure  you, 
I  am  natnml  y  a  peaceable  man ;  I  dislike  ve,v 
much  to  be  d,sturbed  by  disputes  about  money! 
I  ha  e  better  uses  for  my  time."    He  went  to 

paTsed'  to  r  "'"J'  '^  """"  "'  ^'S^-'^'  -'-''  )•« 
passed  to  Jus  visitor. 

curti?'  t'v  "^  T'"  f '"™^''  Sometset,  almost 
cui  tly.       You  know  I  never  smoke." 

"I  had  forgotten.    You  were  always  a  good 
boy   Henry.    You  haven't  any  vices,  large  or 
mall,  have  you?"      He  helped  himself  t  I 
cigarand  lighted  it. 

med~.'"""''^"''^""'''^^^'^'"I'-f<'-<' 

"Then  you  admit  th.at  you  are  m.aking  no 
progress  financially,  and  are  unable  to  meet 
your  liabilities?"  ' 

"I  am  progressing  backwards,  and  I  meet  my 
iah,l.t,es  at  every  turn,_the  trouble  is  to  dodge 
t  em  But  .lon't  allow  you>.elf  to  be  woS 
about  me.  Man  was  not  born  to  have  everv- 
tmig  he  wants  in  this  unsatisfactory  world 
When  money  drops  into  my  coffers  I  am  duly 
thankful  i  when  it  doesn't,  I  live  in  the  e^peo^ 


TWO  MEN  AJVb  A  MADONNA.  183 

tation  that  it  will  some  day.  I  live  on  as  little 
as  possible,  my  Avants  are  not  immerou. ,  and  I 
am  sure  it  woukhrt  bo  possible  for  me  to  prac- 
tice closer  economy,  unless  I  crawled  into  a  hole 
and  pulled  the  earth  in  after  me.  lUit  as  long  as 
I  am  above  ground,  there  are  a  few  things  I  must 
have." 

"  Cigars,  for  instance." 

"  Yes,  that's  one  of  the  things ;  but  I  buy 
them  at  wholesale." 

"And  balls." 

"  Yes,  I  sliould  have  to  be  very  poor  indeed 
to  deny  myself  such  innocent  and  edifyino- 
recreations.  I  go  to  these  affairs  in  fairly  good 
style,  too,  considering  the  poverty-stricken  con- 
dition of  my  wardrobe." 

Somerset  noticed  now  for  the  first  time  his 
really  sliabby  appearance.  "  Is  that  the  best 
suit  of  clothes  you  have?"  he  asked,  half  con- 
temptuously. 

"It  grieves  me  to  admit  it,"  replied  Fitz- 
gerald. He  stood  up,  with  his  hands  thrust 
into  his  pockets,  and  looked  down  at  himself 
with  an  expression  of  mingled  mirth  and  self- 
commiseration,  inexpressibly  droll,  and  so  con- 
tagious that  it  was  with  difficulty  that  Somei-set 
could  refrain  from  laughing.  But  he  was  de- 
termined not  to  be  beguiled  into  any  flippant 
treatment  of  his  friend's  shiftlessness. 


184    SAINTS,  SmNEIlS  AND  QUBBR  PBoPU. 

"BehoUI  tl.is  elegant  suit  of  French  tweed  _ 
changeable,  s  .ot-t,veed  I  d.onl.l  call  it,  fo   'no 
t^vo  ,nehes  of  it  are  of  exactly  the  sane  coIo, 
Ob.e.^e  how  the  brown  g,«,.ill,.  „,erges  i  I' 

Ws      S  e"tr'"f  '""'"r   *™'*'-'aV;he 

Kiiees.     bee  the  fringe  of  tangled  underbrush 

yh.eh  overhangs  my  foot-gear  I    My  d  ar  W 

l.ere,s  something  u„iq„e  Ibout  these  to„sS 

mat  1   am   extravagant       Ah    tt«« 

"You  are  a  seedy  looking  specimen.  I've 
seen  men  who  worked  for  a  dollar  a  day  present 
a  more  respectable  appearance." 

Hemy.  Genius  is  known  by  its  rags.  Clev 
e  .r  menihan  I  have  lived  and  died  in  debt.  I 
am  not  trying  any  original  trick.  Oh,  no  I  It's 
anoldstorv.     Whpn   T  n»«   •     ^^     ,  '     ,      "^ 

heartPnP^   T   f  i      !  '"''^'"^^  *^  ^  'dis- 

heartened  I   take   to  reading  the  histories   of 

amous  men  and  that  cheers  me  wonde  f" %     I 

recognize  that  we  are  all  in  the  same  boat."'  * 

Nonsense !     exclaimed  Somerset.     « Clever 


f\ro  Me^  ANb  A  MAbONlJA.  185 

people  will  always  make  money  if  tliey  are  well- 
balanced  and  ambitious  enoiigli  to  try." 

"  Well-balanced !  Oh,  Henry !  That  is  the 
unldndest  cut  of  all." 

"  You  ought  to  get  married  ;  that  would  set- 
tle you  and  bring  you  to  a  realization  of  your 
responsibilities." 

"Do  you  know  I  have  thought  of  that  in  my 
moments    of    weakness,   when    these  dunning 
trades-people  Iiave  irritated  me  into  mercenary 
projects  ?    The  idea  has  come  to  me  in  the  form 
of  a  temptation.     It  might  be  a  good  scheme— 
a  business-like  arrangement,  with  money  on  one 
side— her  side,  of  course— and  gallant  protection 
on  the  other.     There  are  times  when  I  am  half 
inclined  to  try  it  as  the  only  way  out  of  my  dif- 
ficulties.     But,   no;    perish   the   thought!      I 
haven't  sunk  as  low. as  that  yet.     I  have  a  little 
self-respect  if  I  haven't  much  else." 

"  It  would  be  all  right  if  you  were  to  love  a 
rich  girl,"  pui-sued  the  other  philosophically, 
"though,  I  must  confess,  I  haven't  much  use 
for  that  kind  of  thing  myself." 

"  For  me  to  love  one  woman,  rich  or  poor, 
would  require  a  miraculous  contraction  of  my 
organs  of  affection,"'  replied  Fitzgerald  in  tones 
of  deep  conviction.  "I  belong  to  the  whole 
adorable  sex.  I  admire  all  pretty  women,  love 
—in  a  Platonic  sense— all  lovable  women,  and 


mm 


186  sAmrs,  siyNEiia  and  qukjui  picople. 

reveience  all  good  women.    But  to  bind  myself 
w.th  tl.e  shaekles  of  matrimony  to  any  partieular 
one  won  d  be  to  break  faitli  witli  tl,e  i^st.    No 
i  couldn't  do  it."  ' 

"  J  am  one  of  tl.o  old-fashioned  kind,  I  sun- 

quently  not  imbued  with  tbe  latent  ideas  about 
ove  and  marriage,"  returned  Somerset  witl,  a 
touch  of  sarcasm;  "but I  must  say  I  have  no 
sympathy  with  that  kind  of  talk.  Every  man 
ought  to  look  forward  to  a  happy  marrilgTa: 

the  if  ,\  T'  ''"""^'^  ^""'^  "'  -'-^t-'ce 
th.at  of  a  noble  woman,  will  be  a  great  incentive 
tobimm  busmess  and  a  source  of  strength  to 
resist  temptation.  Yes,  marriage  is  the  right 
thing  for  every  man."  ° 

"No,  not  every  man ;  draw  it  mild,"  said 
F.tzger.ald  in  l„s  lackadaisical  manner.     "  if  he 
«  cut  out  for  it  and  his  inclinations  run  in  that- 
direction,  why,  all  right,  but  if  he  isn't  a  mar- 
rying man,  and  would  grow  restless  under  con- 
jugal discipline,  then  he  ought  to  stay  out  of  it: 
for,  If  he  married,  he  would  only  make  some      ' 
woman   unhappy.    A  common    recognition  of 
the  truth  of  tins  precept  would  save  the  world 
n  lot    of    m,sery.     No,   r.y   dear   fellow,   you 
can  t  teach  me  anything  on  that  score.    I've 
thought  It  all  out  with  more  deliberation  and 


TWO  MEN  AND  A  MADONNA.  187 

consciousness,   perhaps,    than    you    credit    nie 
with." 

Somerset  rose  to  go.  "  I  am  sony  for  you, 
Bob,"  he  said  again.  "  I  hoped  to  see  you  more 
comfortably  fixed.  If  you  need  money  at  any 
time,  you  know,  consider  me  your  banker  and 
draw  to  any  reasonable  extent." 

The  artist  clai^ped  his  Iiand  Iieavily  on  his 
friend's  shoulder,  and  looked  down  into  his  face 
with  an  odd  expression  of  mingled  gratitude, 
amusement  and  self-deprecation. 

"Bless  you  for  this  token  of  confidence, 
Henry  I  If  it  were  not  for  a  few  such  men  as 
you,  lifo  would  be  insupportable.  You  look 
upon  me  as  an  unlucky  sort  of  a  chap,  who, 
though  endowed  with  a  fair  share  of  ability, 
will  never  amount  to  anything.  Don't  deny  it; 
my  keen  perception  is  seldom  at  fault.  Well, 
I  don't  blame  you ;  but  see  here,  old  man,  I 
wouldn't  change  places  with  you  for  the  world. 
You  hobble  along  with  your  feet  tied  to  the 
earth;  I  rise  above  dull,  prosaic  xperiences 
and  soar  upward  higher  than  you  can  see." 

"  Much  good  your  soaring  does  you,"  said  the 
-other  with  a  short  laugh.     "If  you  don't  soon  ' 
get  down  to  earth  and  adopt  practical  methods, 
first  thing  you  know,  you  will  grovel." 

"  Oh,  what  a  melancholy  man  you  aie  !     Al- 
ways borrowing  trouble !  "  laughed  Fitzgerald, 


li. 
I,' , 


?■?  WM 


' 


188    SAINTS,  aiNNEIiS  AND  qUEEH  PEOPLE. 

"I  remember  that  as  r.  boy  you  took  everything 
hard,  from  measles  to  rehgion.  Will  you  bo 
around  to-night  and  go  to  this  affair  with  me?  " 
"I'll  think  about  it— yes,  I  might  as  well. 
But  how  can  you  go  if  that  is  your  best  suit?" 
he  inquired  suddenly. 

"  Ah,  thereby  hangs  a  tale.     I  am  the  fortu- 
nate possessor,  by  proxy,  of  an  elegant  dress  suit. 
You   remember  Charlie  Dingle?    One   of  the 
liveliest  fellows  in  our  set.     Well,  he  has  mar- 
ried and  become  a  tame  domestic  animal ;   he 
is  also  a  gloating  father  of  twins,  and  as  his 
wife  is  rather  delicate,  and  money  isn't  any  too 
plentiful,  society  sees  no  more  of  Charlie.     I've 
blessed   those   twins   many  a  time.      You  see, 
Charlie  has  no  more  use  for  his  swell  clothes,' 
so  he  loans  them  to  me ;  nice,  obliging  fellow 
is  Charlie. 

"  The  suit  I  am  sporting  this  season  is  only 
his  second  best.    The   last   time  I   was  at  a 
party  in  his  best  turn-out,  I  was  so  unfortu- 
nate  as  to  sit  down  on  a  plate  of  salad.     I  don't 
think   anybody   noticed  the  performance,  as  I 
backed  out  of  siglit  as  cautiously  as  possible, 
but  of  coui-se  it   didn't  improve  the  trousers. 
Charlie  vowed  he  wouldn't  let  me   have  that 
suit  again ;  but  I  think  I  can  manage  it  for  to- 
night  if  I  promise,  as  he  would  say,  'not  to  trot 
ground  with  m^  head  in  the  clouds,' " 


TWO  MEN  AND  A  MADONNA. 


189 


Somei-set  buttoned  liis  coat  in  significant  si- 
lence, his  firm  upper  lip  curling  scornfully.  Ho 
wondered  how  any  man  could  so  demean  him- 
self as  to  wear  borrowed  clothes. 

As  they  emerged  from  the  room  and  stepped 
out  upon  the  landing,  a  startling  a2)parition  rose 
before  them. 

It  was  Mrs.  Murphy,  her  watery  orbs  more 
moist  and  limpid  than  evei  She  was  holding 
her  hands  behind  her  back  with  an  air  of  mystery, 
and  leered  at  the  two  gentlemer,  in  a  triumpliant 
and  threatening  manner.  She  had  evidently 
been  imbibing  too  freely. 

"  This  is  an  unexpected  i)le{isure,  Mrs.  Mur- 
phy," began  Fitzgerald  in  his  most  suave  tone. 

"  A  word  with  you,  sir,"  she  demanded  per- 
emptorily.    "  Jist  a  whisper." 

"Certainly,"  he  replied,  lowering  his  head 
with  an  elaborate  gesture  of  gallant  concession. 

"  Pay  me  some  rint !  "  she  shouted  in  a  voice 
so  loud  and  raspy  that  he  started  back  involun- 
tarily, {IS  if  he  liad  been  struck. 

"  Och,  wliat  a  gentle  whisper !  It  was  like 
the  bltist  of  a  fog-horn  !  "  he  exclaimed,  laugh- 
ing, as  he  rubbed  his  ears.  "  And  is  it  hard  up 
for  funds  ye  air,  Mrs.  Murphy  ?  " 

"  Yis,  it  is.  Little  enough  do  I  git,  and  small 
thanks  to  you  for  the  same,  sir.  Pay  me  some 
yin^  or  t;ake  this  over  ^-er  empty  head,"  bringing 


l!«- 


1  ::• 

:  11! 

t         1  '  J 

i 

1           1 

i 

,  1 

i: 


.  >.;■ 

^li'll 

.4m 

' 

1'  <iiiH 

■ 

m 

!  I 


190    SAINTS.  SINNEBS  AND  QUEBn  PEOPLE. 
her  hands  from  behind  her  back,  sl,e  flourished 
the  bi^keu  end  of  a  broo„.stick  over  the  luck- 
.e.^^,.,eraM,whob,a  clever  dod,e  evaded 

"If'T''''^.f''^  ""*"•'"''«  ^'''-l  coaxingly: 
and  wliere  did  ye  git  the  shillalah  ?  Shure  this 
«n„„ds  ,„e  of  the  good  ould  toin,es  in  I  elfnd 
when  McGinty  took  a  club  to  McHoohga,  and 
yelled, '  money  or  yer  loife  I '"  S  "  ana 

"  No  mort  o'  yer  inipidence,  ye  blatherin'  snal- 
pane.  I'™  disprit,  I  a„,,_Ki„  I  kape  lodgers 
an  ^.nake   .t  pay  an'  not  git  a  cin^  „t  Zl 

said^";'""','/'""?*'"  ''""•^■fi^W.  Somerset," 
said  Iitzgerald,  as  his  friend  was  about  to  beat  a 
hasty  retreat  for  fear  of  serious  and  complieat  d 
developments ;   "  this  is  only  a  little  of  Mrs 
Murphy  s  billingsgate  playfulness." 

" ^"f .  ^y  "'*'^  same  word  mebbi.  ye'll  est 
more  of  it  than  ye  loike,"  was  the  leering  re- 

su")  m" "TT'f' ""'  ""*"*'• '" " ""l™  spirit." 
•ud  the  artist,  dropping  his  bantering  tone  and 

I  .  h  brogue.     "  I  regret  that  I  cannot  pay  you 

at    „s  .noment,  Mrs.  Murphy.     This  has  teen 

.    "  Yis,  yis,  yis  !     Yer  prospects  an'  yer  prom- 
ises are  alius  very  foine,  but  its  ri,,t  I  an,  rf{l,er," 


II  ; ; 


TWO  MEN  AND  A  MADONNA.  191 

was  the  impatient  response,  tl^eugh  she  lowered 
her  weapon  and  appeared  somewhat  mollified. 

Somerset's  hand  was  in  his  pocket  in  an  in- 
stant. "  No,  no ;  don't  do  it,"  advised  Fitz- 
gerald  in  an  aside ;  "  I  object  on  principle  to 
bnbmg  Mrs.  Murphy  wlien  she  is  in  her  present 
condition ;  it  encourages  her  to  have  recourse 
to  the  same  tactics  another  time,  and  has  a  gen- 
eral demoralizing  effect  upon  her  character.  I 
prefer  to  use  moial  suasion." 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I  will  do,  Mrs.  Mu"-.hy," 
he  said  with  a  lofty  air  of  disapproval  an.,  self- 
sacrificing  generosity.     "  Rather  than  have  you 
driven  to  these  unseemly  fits  of  violence  through 
any  fault  of  mine,  I  will  cart  my  stuff  to  some 
tumble-down  shed  and  live  there.     I  am  a  gen- 
tleman,  as  you  know,  and  accustomed  to  the 
refinements  of  civUization,  but  I  make  the  sacri- 
fice of  my  preferences  willingly  for  your  sake. 
These  tempers,  Mrs.  Murphy,  in  which  you  are 
apt  to  indulge,  are  injurious  to  your  health  and 
complexion.     You  are  not  as  fresh  and  bloom- 
ing as  you  were  when  I  came  here.     It  grieves 
me  to  think  that  I  am  the  cause  of  this  change 
in  you." 

Somerset  did  not  wait  to  hear  more  of  this 
interesting  interview,  but  whatever  doubts  he 
may  have  entertained  as  to  its  ultimate  conclu- 
siott  were  ^e|;  at  rest  a  mjijute  later.    As  he 


■  I 


I'll  i.  i  ! 
Ml 


192    SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

Stepped  into  the  street,  Fitzgerald  raised  the 
windovy  and  thrusting  his  head  and  shoulders 
out  called  down  in  a  shrill  falsetto  : 

^'Aurevoir,  Henry;  the  foe  is  vanquished." 


^  When  Somerset  entered  the  ball-room  at  nine 
o  clock  that  evening  in  company  with  Fitzgerald, 
the  scene  was  almost  painfully  dazzling  to  his 
prosaic  vision ;  unaccustomed  as  he  had  been 
for  years  to  anything  but  the  most  ordinary  and 
moderate  festivities. 

For  the  fii-st  few  moments  he  struggled  with 
an  almost  irresistible  desire  to  flee  from  this 
strange,  bewildering,  and  uncongenial  environ- 
ment, but  in  a  little  while  he  became  sufficients 
interested  in  his  surroundings  to  wish  to  stay, 
m  the  capacity  of  a  spectator,  if  not  as  a  partici- 
pant     He  weakly  resolved  to  himself  that  he 
would   not  dance,    but  even  as   the   thought 
passed  his  mind  he  felt  sure  that  in  all  pmb- 
ability  he  would. 

His  attention   was   chiefly  attracted   bv  the 
arge  numbei-  of  handsome,   elegantly  dressed 
ladies.     He  had  never  seen  such  an   array  of 
beauty  and  fii^hion  at  one  time  and  place 

The  building  which  had  been  chosen  for  the 
ball  was  an  immense  public  music-hall  wliich 
was    furnished    with    every  convenience    and 


TWO  MEN  AND  A  MADONNA. 


193 


showed  artistic  skill  in  the  decorations.  The 
electric  lights  shone  in  variegated  splendoV  be- 
neath cunningly  devised  shades  of  soft,  trans- 
lucent texture.  Tlie  orchestra,  on  a  dais,  was 
surrounded  by  innumerable,  luxuriant  hot-house 
plants,  ferns,  and  palms,  from  which  myriads  of 
tiny  Chinese  lights  shone  fitfully  like  fireflies. 
The  polished  floor  offered  unrivalled  facilities 
for  dancing. 

At  the  end  of  the  long  apartment  a  fes- 
tooned archway  opened  into  a  smaller  room, 
wliich  had  been  temporarily  fitted  up  as  a  dress- 
ing room.  The  cozy  arrangement  of  chaiis  and 
tefe-d-tStes,  and  the  coquettish  draping  of  pretty 
alcoves,  presented  well  nigh  irresistible  tempta- 
tions ;  but  Somerset,  who  observed  these  de- 
tails from  liis  point  of  vantage  in  the  doorway, 
regarded  this  Eden  only  as  a  possible  means  of 
escape  from  the  giddy  whirl  of  the  dance  ;  and 
remembered  the  newspaper  which  he  had  tucked 
provisionally  in  his  coat-pocket  before  start- 
ing. 

Fitzgerald  bustled  about,  looking  his  hand- 
somest and  most  genial  self,  in  Charlie  Dingle's 
best  dress-suit,  and  proceeded  to  make  Somerset 
acquainted.  He  introduced  him  riglit  and  left, 
adding  spicy  comments  of  his  own  to  the  for- 
mal ceremony  which  helped  wonderfully  to 
place  his  friend  on  a  familiar  footing  with  hia 
13 


iw  SAmrs.  siMeRs  and  qvbbb  peoplm 

"He  is  a  money-grubbing  farmer,  wbo  has 

he  said  as  he  presented  him  to  a  bevy  of  bri.lt 
g.rls,  who  had  been  eyeing  the  tail,  distingni.ired 
ookmg  gentleman  with  furtive  interest  fr<!m 

th^M-'T-    """^  '""   '■"'"■'■^<''"'  '""'-"f  fo" 
and  see  how  he  likes  it." 

"Oh    really?"    exclaimed  a  blonde  youn^ 
ady,  whose  kind  eyes  evinced  a  desire  to  mak? 
the  change  as  agreeable  as  possible. 

hai'r^r/"""^  •' ','  'f '•  "  I"""^  e"'  ^"*  black 
hau  and  eyes,  as  she  looked  at  Somerset  over  the 

top  of  her  fan  in  a  way  that  was  daringly  mi,! 
ch.evous.  The  othe,«  laughed  in  chorus  ad 
looked  interested. 

"And  have  you  enjoyed  being  buried,  Mr 
Wset?"    .nquired    the    first  speaker,'  se,': , 

«  Oh,  very  much,  thank  you,  Miss  Meredith," 
he  rep  bed  kughingly.  -  A  man  who  is  obliged 
to  work  and  Kustle  for  his  living,  as  we  say  fut 
there,  must  be  socially  burled  to  some  extent 
no  matter  wl,ere  he  lives.  And  I  would  preflr 
to  be  buned  ,n  dry,  cold  Manitoba  than  to  be 
swamped  m  Ontario." 

"Oh,   Mr.   Some.:set!"  they  all   exclaimed 


TWO  MEN  AND  A  MADONNA. 


195 


siniultaneously,    with     exaggerated    emphasis. 
"  How  ca7i  you  talk  so?" 

"  Isn't  it  rank  heresy  ? "  said  Fitzgerald. 
"  That  is  the  way  he  goes  on  all  the  time.  He 
is  chuck  full  of  Manitoba  egotism  !  " 

"  But  you  have  dreadful  blizzards  out  there, 
and  wolves  and  wild  Indians — how  can  you 
like  it  ?  People  freeze  to  death — oh !  I  shouldn't 
want  to  live  there,"  said  an  elderly  lady  who 
had  joined  the  group,  in  accents  of  undisguised 
horror. 

"  It  isn't  quite  so  bad  as  that,"  laughed 
Somerset.  "  We  do  have  blizzards  occasionally 
but  they  are  comparatively  harmless.  In  five 
years  I  have  only  known  one  which  resulted  in 
loss  of  life.  Of  course  we  must  guard  against 
the  excessive  cold.  By  experience,  we  learn 
when  to  take  the  outside  air  and  when  to  stfiy 
at  home.  As  to  the  Indians,  they  are  tame  as 
mice,  and  the  wolves  are  scarce,  I  imagine ;  I 
haven't  yet  seen  one." 

The  orchestra  now  gave  signs  of  a  sudden 
musical  inspiration ;  there  was  a  prefatory  piping 
and  scraping  of  the  instruments,  which  presently 
burst  forth  into  a  volume  of  melody.  There 
was  the  slight  hum  and  flutter  which  precedes 
the  waltz,  then  the  dancei-s  glided  over  the 
floor  in  a  mazy  rhythm  to  the  ecstatic  measures 
of  Dreamland. 


I 


t  *•     ' 


' '  ^Mii 


I )] 


I  m 

i     t 


U 


m  um,,  „„„,  ^„  ^^^^^  ^^^^^ 

tempts  to  keen  ■„  =     """/^^^  unsuccessful  at- 

^"fin\teo,i2;;r^r^-';;/°-<'t„^ 

-^he  could  do  to  nav;;rte^S    f'"^"r.' 
notdanced  for  eight  veara-  i,.r      ■    •    "  '""* 
J'e  had  never  bet  /rpl',  U,t  1?   r'^'  ''^^■^ 
parent  that  his  none  to^  fltiS  "    L  hTs.T 
fened  considerably  from  disuse.'  He  tried   f" 
1'  de  his  embanassment  in  the  doI,?. 
places  of  converaiiion  ,.  i    .,     ^   ^  common- 

of  mind     Th  ^  ""^''y  "^enviable  state 

a"-'.dX:::r^rt:f''--r 

movements  of  ih^ ^  u         '^'  ^"^  graceful 

"encs  ot  the  waltz  seemed  to  him  f^  i. 

S^sefveSTml-r"^  ^"^^^--^^ 
I...encies     l\r^^^^^ 

was  a  srreat  rplJof  f.^  i,-         i  ^      ^*    ^^ 

overandtf         1     ""  ""'^^^  *^«  ^^"^^  was 


!(":■' 


I'WO  Mi!]^  ANt>  A  Ma1)0NNA. 


m 


chaperon.  He  stood  irresolute  for  a  few  mo- 
ments, apart  from  the  otliers,  and  watching  the 
pretty  scene  with  interest,  but  having  no  more 
a  desire  to  take  active  part  in  it. 

Fitzgerald  was  moving  in  and  out  among  the 
throng  in  search  of  a  young  lady  who  liad 
promised  him  the  next  dance. 

He  caught  sight  of  Somerset  and  threw  him 
a  whimsical,  mocking  smile.  Presently  he 
passed  him  and  paused  long  enough  to  remark 
with  the  bland  effrontery  which  never  offended 
anybody : 

"  Hello,  old  man,  how  do  you  feel  now  ?  If 
you  can't  be  ornamental,  go  and  sit  down  some- 
where and  keep  out  of  tlie  way.  That  higgledy- 
piggledly  prancing  step  of  yours  may  be  in 
vogue  among  the  Indians,  but  it  is  out  of  date 
here." 

Somerset  lauglied  indifferently  as  he  looked 
after  lus  handsome  friend.  Fitzgerald  was  in  his 
element ;  his  fine  features  were  kindled  with  ani- 
mation and  he  carried  himself  with  dignit}'-,  and 
characteristic  self-assurance  and  conscious  power. 
He  was  making  the  most  of  his  opportunities ; 
flitting  hitlier  and  tliither  on  butterfly-wings 
through  this  expansive  garden  of  feminine  buds 
and  roses ! 

Somerset  was  puzzled  as  he  watched  him. 
This  inconsequent  gayety  was  a  revelation  to  him 


''  tt 


of  the  strange  possibilities  tliat  are  inherent  in 
human  nature     «*  Hr^,t.       u  ""'erent  in 

Htte-ea  with  Jeint    i  .UH^;  "'' 

be  lying  i„  wait  f„H  • '„  a         ■  '"'''t  "'s'" 
with  a  etont  club?    aIaJ17T  ''"'"'''' 

presumptive  to  fabulous  mi  lion   - "  1  "  'Z 

■     not  underetaiid  it  but  f^lf  ti  T    '  ,        "  """''' 

ill  her  subtle  U  "'  ^'''''''P^  "•''tuie 

to  subtle,  far^eeing  methods  I^ad  ordered  it 

af  atio  odo^  :fXtho::  Voi'f rS"  •^"'• 

palpable  through  the  arched  TZ-^'  """" 

-oothi„gbal„ff„r,,i.tu:::^^^^^^^^ 
footfall,  resounding  softly  on  ih.  ,^  •  i 

opera-boxes,  nearly  alike  aid  „  'f«™Wed 

cupied.  -^  "'  Warently  unoc- 

He  naturally  turned  to  the  one  that  came  fi,;,t 
and,  a.  he  parted  the  silk  hanging.,  he  ext^af  Ld 


•if- 


Two  Men  A^d  a  madonna.         199 

the  newspaper  from  his  pocket.  "  Ah,  now  l»e 
liad  readied  a  desirable  retreat,  lie  would  be 
free  to  amuse  himself  in  his  own  practical  way  ! " 
But  he  started  back  in  astonishment.  Tlie 
vision  of  a  beautiful  girl,  with  head  thrown  back 
against  the  cushioned  seat,  and  her  eyes  lialf- 
closed,  almost  took  away  his  breath.  She  stirred 
languidly,  then  sat  upright  and  looked  about 
her  in  a  startled  way  as  she  instinctively  became 
aware  of  his  presence. 

"  I  ^g  your  pardon ! "  exclaimed  Somerset. 

"  I  didn't  know-  ah  !  I  supposed "  And  with 

this  vague  apology  he  fled   in  more  agitation 
than  could  be  satisfactoiily  accounted  for  by  the 
mere  incident.     "Why  was  this  girl's  face  so 
strangely  familiar?     Where  had  he  seen  those 
liquid  eyes  and  that  Grecian  face  ?    Ah,  now  < 
he  remembered!     She  was  the  subject  of  Fitz- 
gerald's picture— a  veritable  Madonna  in  the 
flesh  !  "     He  groped  aimlessly  among  conflict- 
ing sensations  and  contradictoiy  impulses  ;  was 
presently  seized  with   an  overwhelming  desire 
for  an  introduction,  and  wondered,  witli  a  pang 
of  self-reproach,  way  he  hadij't  thought  of  it 
before. 

He  hurried  back  to  tlie  ball-room,  gazing 
about  him  in  quest  of  Fitzgerald.  The  music 
had  ceased  and  there  was  a  lull  of  intermission  ; 
the  dancers  were  seated,  or  chatting  in  small 


I  *i 


hi 


i    !| 


i  •(! 


'»■!' 


Hi 


!  i 


200    lAlNTS,  StN;^En8  A^D  QUEEii  PEOPLE. 
groups,  but  the  artist  was  nowhere  to  be  seen. 
Soniei-set,  in  liis  new-fledged  anxiety  and  enthu- 
siasm, was  too  mucli  in  earnest  to  care  how  he 
might  look. 

He  walked  the  full  length  of  the  room,  glanc- 
ing wildly  from  right  to  left,  precipitating  him- 
self into  select  conversation  circles,  bobbing  in 
and  out  with  dexterity  and  making  incoherent 
apologies  when  he  failed  in  his  object  of  flndina 
his  friend.  ^ 

His  progress  was  c^bserved  with  general  amuse- 
ment ;  he  looked  like  a  forlorn  country  swain 
in  search  of  a  truant  sweetheart.  The  black- 
eyed,  mischievous  girl  tittered  behind  her  fan 
and  exclaimed: 

^    "  Oh,  here  comes  that  resurrected  Manitoban : 
isn't  he  funny?" 

Her  companion  lauglied  as  he  levelled  his  eye- 
glass in  the  direction  indicated.  «  How  yewy 
clevah  you  aw !  The  weseweckted  Manitoban  I 
Ha !  Iia  !  ha  !  What  a  wich  joke ! "' 

Fitzgerald's  bushy  black  head  appeared  at 
last  in  the  midst  of  an  animated  group  of  ladies. 
In  answer  to  Somerset's  emphatic  gestures,  he 
reluctantly  disengaged  himself  and  hurried  for- 
ward. 

«  Well,  what  is  it  ?  "  he  asked,  puckering  his 
face  into  a  comical  expression.  «  Are  you  in 
for  a  bill  of  damages  ?    You've  put  your  foot  in 


TWO  ME^  AND  A  MADONNA. 


201 


it,  I  suppose,  and  torn  the  train  of  a  five-liun- 
(Ired-dollar  silk  dress.  I  wish  you  knew  how 
ridiculous  you  look  !  " 

"No,  it  is  nothing  of  that  sort,"  was  the  im- 
patient reply:  "and  I'm  not  concerned  about 
my  looks.  It  is  that  Madoinia  of  yours,— the 
Virgin  Mary." 

"  The  Virgin  Mary?"  repeated  the  artist,  in 
low  tones  of  awe-struck  bewilderment.  For  the 
moment  he  had  no  recollection  of  his  picture. 
"Be  careful  how  you  talk,  or  people  will  think 
you  are  crazy.  What  liave  you  had  to  drink, 
Somerset  ?  " 

"  You  know  what  I  mean,— that  girl— your 
model.  She  is  in  the  drawing-room  and  I  want 
an  introduction." 

"  Oh,  I  comprehend  the  situation,"  laughed 
Fitzgei-ald.  "  By  all  means,  my  dear  fellow  ; 
happy  to  oblige  you  in  so  small  a  matter." 

It  seemed  to  Somerset  that  he  must  have  spent 
nearly  an  hour  in  hunting  Fitzgerald,  and  lie 
began  to  have  misgivings  that  his  fairy  had 
flown  during  the  long  interval;  but  no, she  was 
sitting  exactly  where  he  had  left  her. 

"  Miss  Valerie,  may  I  have  the  pleasure  of 
presenting  to  you  my  friend,  Mr.  Somerset?" 
said  the  artist,  bowing  courteously  and  making 
elaborate  gestures  which  were  becoming  to  him, 
though  they  would  have  looked  foppish  in  the 


!  I  If: 


*'  '■ 


■u? 


h  I? 


'  '1? 


i  t  ' 


i  < 


ii  I 


202    SAINtfS,  mNl^ERS  /yn  arrKER  PBOPLK. 
luajority  (jf  ,nen.     "  He  would  give  me  no  rest 
UMtaiJmcl  brouglitlum  to  you,  and  l,i«  imnor- 
tunity  deser|.««  its  reward.     Mr.  Jlenry  Soniei- 
«et,  Miss  Valerie.     A  queer  fellow,  I  warn  s  ou  ; 
the  sum  total  of  his  earthly  ambition  is  to  run 
successfully  a  farm    in   Manitoba.      But  don't 
presume  to  pity  him,  ho  takes  pity  witli  a  bad 
grace.     I  give  him  over  to  your  tender  mercies ; 
deal  gently  with  his  weaknesses." 

"  What  are  they?"  inquired  Miss  Valerie,  in 
a  sweet  modulated  vqice,  as  she  smiled  compre- 
hensively. 

"  Oh,  Manitoba  climate  for  one  thing     He 
^^oesn't  consider  it  extremely  cold,  you  know, 
%**Jy  di     and  exhilarating,  and  lie  has  lived  in 
solitude'  so  long  that  he  thinks  our  society  events 
a  dreadful  bore  !     Worst  of  all,  he  is  a  woman- 
hater  ;    doesn't  say  so  in    so  many  words,  but 
v/ould  give  that  impression." 
•   *;No,  no,  don't  believe  him,"  interrupted  Som- 
erset, who  liad  no  wish  to  be  estimated  by  this  " 
fair  young  girl  in  such  a  formidable  light,  "it 
isn't  true,  I  assure  vou." 

"Set  him  goHig,  he  can  talk.  If  he  has  any 
good  points,  Miss  Valerie,  they  ought  to  develop 
speedily  beneath  the  sunshine  of  your  smiles  " 
As  lie  spoke,  Fitzgerald  bowed  himself  off,  and 
lett  the  two  alone,  to  make  the  first  hesitating 
advances  toward  frienj-^hip. 


TIVO  MEN  A.\D  A  MADONNA. 


203 


Somerset  was  so  dcliciously  agit  .^ed  that  ho 
forgot  the  natural  use  of  liis  tongue  and  reniained 
stupidly  silent,  staring  at  this  slim,  dainty 
maiden  who  impressed  him  as  no  other  type  of 
womanhood  ever  liad.  His  easy  good  manners 
deserted  him,  \w  felt  rough  and  eh)wnisli  and 
dreaded  the  sound  of  his  own  voiee ;  it  would 
surely  bo  har  ;h  in  contrast  witli  her  musieal  tones. 

She  was  perfeetly  self-possessed  and,  entirely 
unconscious  of  the  effect  she  was  producing, 
talked  pleasantly,  giving  him  time  to  recover 
himself.  Somerset  tliought  he  had  never  seen 
such  heavenly  blue  eyes.  They  were  large, 
clear,  and  luminous,  with  a  frank,  steady  ex- 
pression that  was  restful  and  leassuring,  and 
suggested  phasing,  poetic  fancies.  They  were 
like  a  placid  summer  sky,  to  which  weary  toilers 
in  the  heat  of  earth's  strife  might  look  with 
gratitude  and  longing  ;  the  kind  jf  eyes  whose 
loving  glance  would  do  a  man  more  good  than 
anything  else  in  the  world  after  a  hard  day's 
work. 

So  thought  Somerset,  wondering  not  a  little 
at  his  own  imaginative  invention, — for  he  was 
one  of  thr  most  matter-of-fact  men  living. 
Hoi  pale,  creamy  complexion  without  a  tint  of 
bright  color,  was  thrown  into  relief  by  waving 
masses  of  sunny  brown  hair  which,  according  to 
the  prevailing  fashion,  was  piled  high  upon  her 


II 


II 


I  .:k\ 

m 


204    SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

dniiitily-poised  head.    Her  mouth  was  neither 
large  nor  very  small,  but  firm  and  sympathetic, 
.^he  wore  a  dove-gray  Grecian  costume  of  soft 
material,  which  followed  accurately  in  clino-i„o. 
folds  the  round  curves  of  her  graceful  ri4,.° 
and  was  almost  Quakor-like    in  its  simnircity! 
It  was  cut  away  slightly  at  the  throat,  revealing 
one  row  of  genuine  pearls.     A  small  spray  of 
pink  roses  completed  an  attii-e  wliich,  to  Som- 
erset,  was   emblematic    of  the   wearer's    good 
judgment  and  refined  taste. 

"  You  must  have  thought  it  strange  that  I 
sliould  desert  the  ball-room  and  hide  myself 
here, '  she  said  in  her  musical  voice.  "I  must 
have  been  dozing  when  you  came  the  first  time 
I  sat  up  last  niglit  with  a  sick  neighbor,  and  I 
remember  feeling  very  sleepy  when  I  sank  into 
this  comfortable  seat." 

"  You  shouldn't  sit  up  with  sick  people,"  he 
replied;  "you  should  take  better  care  of  vour- 
self.  Miss  Valerie." 

"  I  don't  mind  it  at  all ;  I  rather  like  it.  And 
I  am  so  strong  that  I  think  I  am  specially  fitted 
for  It,  in  tliat  respect.  It  is  such  a  privilege  to 
be  able  to  be  of  service  in  cases  of  sickness.  In- 
deed,  I  have  been  thinking  of  becoming  a  hos- 
pital nurse.  I  must  get  steady  work  of  some 
«ort  and  can't  think  of  any  occupation  that 
"would  be  more  congenial." 


TWO  MEN  AND  A  MADONNA.  205 

"Don't,  Miss  Valerie,  let  me  advise  you. 
You  would  never  be  able  to  stand  the  liaidslnps 
and  sacrifices  of  such  a  life.  That  you  would 
prove  an  invaluable  acquisition  to  the  profession 
I  haven't  a  doubt ;  I  am  sure  there  must  be  a 
wide  field  for  the  services  of  refined  women, 
but  you  should  consider  yourself  and  not  decide 
hastily  to  swell  the  list  of  martyrs." 

He  smiled  down  upon  her  kindly.     He  was 
delighted  with  her  earnestness  and  her  candidly 
expressed  purpose  of  earning  a  livelihood,  but 
as  to  the  actual  realization  of  such  a  purpose, 
he  had  certain  intuitive  convictions.     No,  this 
was  not  a  hardy  nature  formed  to  wage  victorious 
battles  against  the  conflicting  elements  of  the 
world,  but  a  fine,  sensitive,  highly   organized 
creature,  to  whom  manly  protection  was  a  neces- 
sity.    Not  a  girl   to   work,  but   a  girl   to   be 
worked  for.     She  looked  strong  and  healthy,  yet 
he  liked  to  fancy  that  he  saw  in  her  all   the 
traditional  Aveakness  and  dependence  of  her  sex. 
"  It  isn't  settled  yet,  I  am  only  thinking  of 
it,"  she  said  gently.     « I  don't  enjoy  dancing 
parties  very  much.     I  am  afraid  I  can  never  be 
fashionable.     I  find  efforts  at  display  most  tire- 
some and  unsatisfactory." 

"  Please  don't  try  to  be  fashionable  I  "  lie 
exclaimed  impulsively.  «  You  are  so  much 
better  as  you  are."     Then  realizing  that  this 


i  I 


'  4     I' 


:vA 


f 
I 


t'- 


Ml 


i 


206     SAINTS,  SmNERS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

was  an  awkward  speech  and  not  in  tl,e  highest 
degree  complimentary,  he  plunged  lieadlong 
mto  conversation  to  divert  her  mind  from  his 
clumsiness.  "I  understand  wliat  jou  mean, 
1  can  sympathize  witli  you  from  experience. 
When  I  was  a  young  lad  I  was  painfully  shy  • 
I  may  have  outgrown  that  failing  to  soine  extent, 
but  I  am  never  free  from  a  desire  to  escape  from 
a  crowd." 

"I  come  principally  on  account  of  my  sister. 
She  IS  younger  tlian  I,  and  very  gay.  There 
are  only  the  two  of  us  at  home,  and  it  seems  apity 
to  deny  her  such  pleasures  because  I  do  not  ap- 
preciate them.  There  she  is,~do  you  see  her  ?  " 
There  was  an  almost  motherly  pride  in  her  voice 
which  Somerset  did  not  fail  to  notice,  and  which 
went  to  stiengthen  his  opinion  of  her  woman- 
liness. 

He  looked  through  the  archway  and  saw  a 
girl  with  fluffy,  yellow  hair,  who,  however,  bore 
but  a  slight  resemblance  to  the  immaculate  creat- 
ure by  his  side. 

"  She  is  like  me,  don't  you  think  so  ?  "  asked 
Miss  Valerie,. wistfully. 

He  wanted  to  say  quite  bluntly  that  she  was 
not  one-half  as  beautiful,  but  he  restrained  him- 
self  and  replied  quietly  : 

"Not  very  much— a  slight  family  likeness 
perhaps."     Then,  fearful  lest  he   might  have 


■M 


TWO  MEN  AND  A  MADONNA. 


207 


offended  her,  he  added  quickly,  "But  she  is 
very  pretty,  veiy."  And  again  he  felt  that  his 
remarks  were  ill-chosen. 

Helen  Valerie  was  not  a  clever  girl,  in  the 
popular  acceptation  of  the  word,  and  had  never 
been  considered  a  brilliant  conversationalist; 
but  she  possessed  in  a  remarkable  degree  the 
qualities  of  sympathy  and  tact,  combined  with 
the  faculty  of  making  other  people  talkative— 
those  charming  characteristics,  without  which 
the  most  clever  women  are  lacking  in  true  com- 
panionship. 

In  a  short  time  Somerset  was  surprised  to 
find  himself  relating  not  only  his  pioneer  ex- 
periences in  Manitoba,  but  his  whole  personal 
history.  The  conviction  that  already  he  loved 
this  pure-faced,  sweet-voiced  giil  was  so  over- 
whelming, that  he  felt  powerless  to  struggle 
against  it,  and  he  recognized  the  hand  of  destiny 
in  his  approach  to  this  blissful  retreat;  more- 
over, he  was  not  unwilling  to  follow  humbly 
and  gladly  in  wiiatever  course  that  hand  might 
direct. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  he  was  not  like 
the  majority  of  young  men  who  fritter  away 
the  heart's  best  affections  in  numberless  insipid 
flirtations.  All  the  love  of  which  his  strong, 
reserved  nature,  with  its  hidden  reservoii-s  of 
feeling,  was  capable,  remained  intact,  to  be  be- 


4 


I'll 


s.    ' 


208    SAINTS,  SJNNEB8  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

Stowed  in  one  act  of  surrender  to  one  woman 
whom  lie  judged  to  be  wortliy  of  it. 

To  such  natures,  Cupid's  revelations  are  apt  to 
be  sudden.  The  stronghold  is  stormed  and  taken 
almost  before  the  gallant  defender  has  retison  to 
suspect  that  the  citadel  is  in  danger.  Already, 
in  imagination,  he  pictured  her  moving  to  and 
fro  in  his  home,  a  domestic,  invisibly-winged 
angel,  adding  new  lustre  to  the  homeliest  duties 
and  making  everything  blight  with  Iier  looks. 

"A  guardian  angel,  o'er  his  life  presiding  ; 
Doubling  his  pleasures  and  his  cares  dividing." 
He  wondered  if  it  were  not  a  monstrous  piece 
of  absurdity  to  think  of  asking  her  to  share  his 
quiet,  ungilded  life  ;  and  yet,  according  to  Iier 
own  admission,  her  young  spirit  was  not  bound 
in  slavish  fetters  to  the  pomps  and  vanities  of 
the  world.     Thank  heaven,  she  would  not  need 
to  work !    He  had  sufficient  means  to   enable 
him  to  live  in  comparative  luxury  whenever  he 
might  choose  to  do  so.     If  his  wife  wearied  of 
the  monotony  and  limitations  of  Lake  Dauphin 
district,   there    was    nothing  to    prevent    him 
making  his  home  in  Winnipeg,  which,  as  the 
cultured  social  centre  of  the  province,  compared 
favorably  with  Ontario  cities  of  its  age. 

He  was  sure  she  was  too  sensible  a  giil 
to  ask  him  to  pick  up  stakes  and  leave  the 
country,  in  th(?  interests  of  worldl;jr  ambition. 


TWO  MEN  AND  A  MADONNA.  209 

That  he  could  not  do,  even  for  her.  He  liad 
learned  to  love  tlie  prairie  land  which  was  so 
intimately  associated  with  his  struggles  and 
successes,  and  had  long  since  resolved  to  be  a 
loyal  Manitoban. 

His  reverie  was  interrupted  by  a  chorus  of 
harmonious  chimes  from  the  belfries  of  the  city 
which  rang  out  the  death-knell  of  the  old  year 
and  the  birth-song  of  the  new,  drowning  the 
music  of  the  orchestra  and  the  monotone  of  trii> 
ping  feet.  It  was  a  solemn  instant.  A  subtle, 
sacred  moment  seemed  to  palpitate  in  the  per- 
fumed atmosphere,  which  was  perceptible  to 
Somerset's  quickened  senses. 

There  was  a  pensive,  reverent  expression  in 
Miss  Valerie's  eyes  as  she  turned  toward  her 
companion,  but  neither  of  tliem  spoke  till  the 
chimes  had  died  away  into  stillness ;  then  he 
said  gently :  « I  wish  you  a  happy  New  Year, 
Miss  Valerie.  You  see  we  are  bemnninff  it 
together."  ^ 

«  Thank  you,"  she  returned  in  a  voice  that  was 
slightly  tremulous.  "  I  trust  that  it  will  be  a 
happy  year  for  both  of  us."  Something  in  the 
way  she  said  it  led  him  to  hope. 

Tiie  dance  had  begun  again  with  renewed 
vigor;  misty,  white-robed  figures  floated  airily 
by,  and  the  orchestra  Lad  evidently  imbibed  fresh 
inspiration. 


i  m^ 


Ui 


210    ^Amrs,  SINNERS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

Somerset  proffered  his  arm.  "  The  first  waltz 
of  the  year-please  do  not  deny  me,  Miss 
Valerie. 

"  But  I  am  afraid  I  dance  wretchedly,"  she 
demurred. 

"  Not  as  badly  as  I  do  ;  but  I  have  a  particular 
tancy  t    enjoy  this  dance  with  you." 

She  made  no  further  objection,  and  presently 
they  were  out  in  the  midst  of  the  whirl.    Stran/e 
to  say,  Somerset  danced  very  well  this  time  and 
had  no  uncomfortable  apprehensions.     For  some 
unaccountable  reason,  his  joints  were  now  suffi- 
ciently flexible  for  the  purpose.     No  doubt  it 
was  the  liglitness  of  his  spirit  which  surmounted 
physical  difficulties,  and  his  improvement  was 
entirely  due  to  the  triumph  of  mind  over  matter. 
****** 
One   morning,  a  few  weeks  after  the   ball 
'  Somerset  ran  into  Fitzgerald's  studio  to  bid  him' 
good-bye.     His  visit  had  been  protracted  far  be- 
yond his   original   intention,  owing  to  circum- 
stances  which,  it  is  to  be  presumed,  he  did  not 
wish  to  order  differently.     He  found  the  artist 
busily  at  work  upon  a  canvas  from  which  he  did 
not  take  the  trouble  to  raise  his  eyes. 

_  "  Hello,  Henry !  "  he  exclaimed  absently,  still 
vigorously  plying  his  brush.     "Step   over  the 
stuff  hang  your  hat  on  the  floor  and  sit  down 
Pon  t   talk ;  I'm   busy,_got  a  new  idea ;  get 


tz 

e 
r 


,      Tiro  MEN  AND  A  MADONNA.  211 

one  so  seldom,  I  must  make  the  most  of  it.  So 
you're  off  ill  the  morning  ?  Can't  stand  the  con- 
ventionalities of  civilization  any  longer,  eh  ? 
I've  heard  of  such  cases.  It  gets  to  be  a  sort  of 
mania  in  time." 

"  I  expect  to  return  in  a  few  months,"  said 
Somerset,  cheerfully. 

Fitzgerald  wheeled  round  suddenly  and  looked 
at  him  keenly.  "  You  do  ?  "  he  said  slowly, 
"  what  does  that  mean  ?  " 

For  answer  his  friend  smiled  in  a  mysterious 
way  and,  crossing  the  room,  paused  before  the 
picture  of  the  Virgin.  Reverently  he  lifted  the 
drapery ;  took  along,  lingering  look  at  the  sweet 
face  and  turned  away  with  a  sigh. 

"I  don't  want  you  to  exhibit  this.  Bob,"  he 
said  with  a  grand  air  of  proprietorship,  "  I  hope 
to  purchase  it  before  long,  in  the  meantime, 
take  care  of  it  for  me." 

"  Whew !  So  that's  the  way  the  wind  blows  ?  " 
said  the  other  in  unfeigned  astonishment.  « I 
must  say,  you  quiet  fellows  have  a  sly  way  of 
doing  things  !  Well,  you  are  a  brave  man  if 
you  can  stand  so  much  sanctimony." 

Then  Somerset  fired  up,  as  well  he  might. 
"I  wish jou  could  get  a  little  of  it  from  some 
quarter,"  he  said,  hotly ;  "  you  need  it." 

Fitzgerald  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed, 
but  sobered  almost  instantly,  and,  holdino-  out 


IB  •  ■■  M, 


ii 


4 


,  -'J 


'I 

(If    ?•] 


iff 


Ii 


i 


it  carefully  into  h^lZZ.T        '  '''^^'"8^ 


k 


/ 


•  r 


THE  OLD-FASHIONED  PREACHER. 


,"  '^.^f^^}'  ''•~"'  preachers,"  said  Joe  Gre..<r 
«f  I>e  'g  .ted  his  pipe  and  thoughtlnlW  ,^3 
he  e.rele  of  faees  around  th!  c^n^i^f^t^Tf, 
borne  .„  on  my  mind  as  I  reflect  upon  n,;  w  de 
expenence  of  men  of  their  cloth  that  (herr 
deal  of  inconsistency  in  some  of  them  " 

"Yes  you're  right  there,"  exclaimed  the 
cynical  Jn„  Andrews.  "You  never  spoke  a 
truer  word  than  that."  His  boisterou  ku.h 
grated  ha,.hly  „po„  the  eai.  of  the  ladies,  tlnS 

mocks,  placidly  enjoymg  the  beauty  of  land 
water  ^and  sky,  and  the  cheery  cracL  of  Tlfe" 

•  ,."  ^°J'  •'™' "°"«  "f  yi'-  backbiting,"  adi  i 
.shed  h,s  wife,  who  sat  beside  him  ,ritl.  a  Sun 
day-school  novel  in  her  lap  which  she  h  id  ^en 
endeavoring  to  read  in  the  twilight.  "I  don't 
hke  to  hear  you  making  fun  of  pLhe.  or ty 
body  else,  and  you  are  altogether  too  fond  of  It 
Its,„ak„ess.     Don't  encourage  him  fn't 

213 


i 
II 


.  ml 
m 


r-i  fi 


fi] 


I 


ti  iijf 


III 
i 


214    SAtNT.:^,  A7.VJVM,X  Am  Qmm  PKoPtB. 

"  """'Pli.  that's  a  queer  way  to  nut  it  I  " 
to,teclAu.,..s.     ".Toc„,aJ„:em:i      „;: 
en...  0  one  too,  and  I  agreed  will.  1.1,,^  ',-     ,, 

take  the  blame  for.e,.couragi.,g  hi,,,,     c.o  o, 
Joe,  air  your  views."  ' 

"What's  the  talk  about?"  la.iiv  i,.q„i,.e,I  „ 
entuuental  ha„„nock  gi.-l.     .j,  LZtMil 
Je  k,„s  ™„,„,,      „,^  -'"'  tl'e  eoach,.,a,  ?"  " 
No,  ,t  isn'f,"  replied  M,^.  A..d,ews,  i„,nul 

ia«:iVA;^,,::f^'^^'''i'"-'->''«'-e.esy," 

"  ^ell,  Iguess  they  can  stand  it,  can't  ti.ev  ?" 
Y»  the  g.,.l's  languid  response.     "  I  kue  'Tuch 
a  dear  sweet  preacher  once,  a  friend  o    pa  .al 
He  >„ade  such  pretty  speeches  to  won,n",  i 
alvv.ays  dressed  elegantly  ;  the  people  mad" s^ 
a  fuss  over  him,  that  is,  the  women  did    he' 
.mply  adored  hi.n.     The  men  didn't  bk    £ 
o  well,  they  were  jealous,  I  suppose,  the  poo" 

;rk:::v'°^^""''°"^'^^"-'--f--tC: 

bis"  "rtld!  '""''  ^'!^  P"'"'""*^  ?'^«"  t° '"»'  on 
bis  bithdays,  embroidered  slippers  and  hand 

toi  a  wh,  e  and  we  all  felt  so  sorry.     I  sent 
l"m  «ome  jelly  I  made  myself  and  a  cLken^;;!      ■ 


I    I 


rUK  OlD-PASmONED  PliFAmKn.       015 

He  saitl  tl.at  lie  never  tasted  anythiiiff  so  deli- 
cioiis.     Poor  dear  fellow  !  " 
Andrews  laughed  heartlessly 

"Diclhe  die?  "he  asked,  as  if  such  a  con. 
summation  would  have  pleased  him. 

"  No  hut  some  mean  people  got  up  a  liorrid 
s  ory  ahout  him  and  he  had  to  leave  tovvn 
None  of  the  girls  helieved  a  word  agi:t  ,:;::: 
tliey  were  up  at  the  train  to  see  Iiim  off  I'll 
never  forget  how  handsome  and  gentlemanly  ho 
looked      Oh,  yes,  I  was  there  too  and  I'm  not 

shook  hands  with  us  all  around  and  said,  '  God 
bless  you  I      I  have  his  photo  at  home." 

"I  suppose  he  was  fond  of  conversing  upon 
spiritual  subjects?"  queried  Andrews     ^     ^ 

"  Oh,  no,  not  at  all.     You  wouldn't  know  lie 
was  a  preacher  when  he  was  out  of  the  pulpit." 

^xxxu^  when  he  made  pastoral  calls?"  sug- 
gested Gregg.  ^ 

«n'i"!.r^  "'^^^^"'^  ^'^'^  ^^^^^^  "^^"  '-^''oiit  all 
sorts  of  things  and  generally  stayed  for  tea      He 

was  awfully  fond  of  lemon  pie.     He  ^^  tt 

greatest  i^llow  for  being  engag'ed  to  twolthree 

gills  at  the  same  time  ;  it  got  him  into  some 

o:?r:her''^^^^ 

"That's  one  kind  of  parson,"  said  Andrews, 
who  commends  himself  to  the  ladies  because 


^1 


I  '^ 


i'»\: 


210    SAmt^,  .SIMNKIIS  ANT,  qUKEn  vHovU. 

on,i...efi,.e.h.asoality.  IVo  no  use  f„,.  „,;„,,»„„ 
at  .111.  1  |,„y  ,„.each  ono  thing  -.uuX  li  vo  nnother 
They  make  a  ..oat  ado  about  l.oncsty  a„<.  "t" 
they  II  play  you  a  mean  sneaky  t.ick  afnnickM 
tl.o  next  one.  Ye.,  that's  right.  YouTedn't 
mulge  me  wife.  The  Reverelul  Kieha.-d  o .  wis 
the  .,ou  o  honor,  wasn't  he,  when  ho  sold  ZtiZ. 
mare  of  „s  and  declared  that  she  w.os  in  fitl 

\  ^''^"'"Plo.enougli  to  take  him  at  his  word 
•  because  ho  wore  a  long  broadcloth  coa   aTd  „ 

pl m  „   s,^or.     "  Ho  caught  Jim  Andrews  na^ 
P."g  tha   fme,  and  that's  more  than  any  other 
Reverend  will  ever  be  able  to  say  "         ^ 
;;  a,e.atcdyo„,  did  hor'queriod  .,«  of  the  men. 

d;»^        ;     f      '•  '"^  '"•  *''«  •'^nged  critter 
a  ed  ,ns.do  of  a  n.onth.    She  wa.,  disposed  when 

and  she  had  no  more  speed  in  her  than  an  old 
ox.  When  I  went  to  Richardson  about  it  he 
wn,ked  and  laughed  and  said  it  was  nVv  ow„ 
lookout;  that  he  wasn't  a  judge  orhoifl^h 
and  wasn'tsupposod  to  know  there  „,t^l 
-ong  with  the  anim.al.     When  I  asCd    f„ t,^ 


■  fiik  oUf-tAs/imyHD  PltEAciikn.  m 
alone  pious,  a„d  that  i(  ho  got  his  ju,t  deserts 
1.0  wouia  l«  bmn,leJ  publicly  „»  ^  thief  " 

"I  m  tired  of  that  ho.se  story,"  said  the  l„,v, 
a^.x,ous  vo,oo  at  his  side.     "  I  wish  you  ,vo„  d 
forge    .t,  ,r.,„,  and  be  satisfied  to  take  example 
of  really  g„„d  people."     Mrs.  Andrews  felt  veC 
keenly  on  th.s  subject.     Ilor  In.sband  had  S 
a  church  meu.ber  previous  to  the  unfortunate  b.-..- 
8^^  no  winch  he  alluded ;  „„w  he  was  a  seoflev 
and  uo    at  all  averse  to  the  serious  imputation 
o    scepticism,  and  she  attributed  the  clmnge  to 
the  inconsistency  of  the  Reverend  Ricliardson. 

I  never  had  any  faith  in  that  fellow,"  said 
Joe  Gregg  carelessly.  "  He  was  always  looking 
put  for  his  own  interests,  and  was  too  full  of 
himself  to  have  considei-atiou  for  anybody  else. 
H  s  talk  was  enough  to  sicken  me.     His  conver 

this.    7thmk  this,  and  if  I  were  in  your  place 
I  would  d.  so  and  so.     He  was  chuck  fuU  o^ 
egot.ni.     When  he  pruyed  you  would  alm<» 
think  he  was  giving  advice  to  the  Almighty." 

Now,  Joe,"  remonstrated  Mrs.  Gregg,  ",/„ 
be  c^ful  what  you  say.     You're  so  reckkss ! " 

till,  these  women  I  how  they  jerk  a  fellow 

up  for  nothing.     Of  eo„i.e  I  don't  prln]  ^ 

uJge  the  man,"  he  added  apologetiellly,  as  if 

to  appease  a  qualm  of  conscience.     "Maybe  he 

lived  up  to  his  light  and  Battered  himself  that  he 


?0: 


':  m 


iiii 


SIB    SAINTS,  SlNNEtiS  AND  QUEEli  PEOPLE, 

was  sincere.  I'll  not  say  that  he  wasn't,  but  at 
any  rate  I  will  say  that  he  had  a  real  talent  for 
sharp  practice." 

"Joe,"  said  Mrs.  Gregg,  raising  herself  to  an 
upright  position  in  her  hammock,  and  turning 
her  pretty,  eager  face  toward  him,  « tell  them 
about  Mr.  Giant.  They  will  have  a  better 
opinion  of  preachers  if  they  hear  about  him. 
He  was  so  good  and  grand,  wasn't  he,  dear? 
Oh,  Mr.  AiK^lrews,  I  wish  you  could  have  known 
him." 

Her  husband  did  not  immediately  reply,  and  a 
short  silence  ensued,  broken  only  by  the  pierc- 
ingly sweet  notes  of  a  soaring  thrush,  and  the 
swish  of  the  waves  as  they  laj^ped  the  sliore. 

"I  was  thinking  of  him,"  returned  Joe  in  a 
low,  reverent  tone,  "  but  it  didn't  seem  quite  re- 
spectful to  mention  him  in  the  same  breath  with 
Richardson.     However,  there's  no  one  living  or 
dead  tliat  I  would  rather  talk  about,  and  if  you'll 
wait  a  few  minutes  till  I  can  gather  my  thoughts 
together  and   get   that  horse-story  out   of  my 
mind,  I'll  tell  you  some  of  tlie  circumstances  I 
recollect,  in  connection  with  a  man  who  not 
only  preached   the  gospel,  but  lived  it  every 
moment;  who  was  so  absorbed  in  seeking  the 
happiness  and  spiritual  welfare  of  others,  that 
he  never  seemed  to  think  of  liimself,— a  man 
who  was  all  love,  and  tender  pity,  and  mercy. 


it 

)1' 
11 

g 

n 

r 

I. 
? 


THE  OLD-FASHIONED  PREACHER.         219 

"  I  am  not  sceptical,  like  Andrews  here,  and 
though,  as  I  said  before,  I  have  seen  enough  to 
convince  me  that  there's  a  deal  of  inconsistency 
in  the  clerical  profession,  still  I  must  admit  that 
there  are  some  grand  men  among  them.     But 
this  man— his  name  was  Richard  Grant— beat 
anything   I   ever    saw   for    settling   rows  and 
smoothing  difficulties  and  making  his  influence 
felt  as  a  peacemaker.     He  was  really  famous  in 
that  line.     Whenever  there  was  a  quarrel  of  any 
account  between  church  members  or  outsiders, 
people  would  say,  '  Go  and  tell  Brotlier  Grant, 
he  will  settle  the  dispute  in  no  time,'  and  he  did 
too. 

"  Before  he  came  to  us  we  had  been  in  con- 
stant trouble.  There  Avere  two  tale-bearers  in 
the  church  who  made  it  their  business  to  act  as 
go-betweens  and  meddlesome  busybodies,  carry- 
ing misrepresented  statements  and  ugly  rumors 
from  the  preacher  to  members  of  the  Board  and 
congregation,  and  sundry  remarks  made  by  the  ' 
people  back  to  the  preacher.  You  know  how 
that  kind  of  thing  grows  and  spreads  till  it  con- 
taminates the  very  atmosphere  of  the  church 
like  a  foul  malaria. 

"  It  had  been  our  misfortune  to  have  men  sent 
to  us  who  were  sensitive  in  their  feelings,  and 
jealous  of  their  dignity  and  clerical  authority ; 
bumptious  kind  of  men,  who  could  never  forget 


I;: 


ii 


i>  III 

ii  m 


M 


220  SAmr,,  sm^^„s  ani>  ^uE^n  people 

1  Je  tale-bearers  Jiad  thinfrs  all  tlipfv  .    ^"''®- 
and  keepinsr  the  ch,l  '  """S'-egotion, 

meeting;    never  Jmve  I   heard  slh     ^^"" 
earnest  prayen,.    Old  n,a„  B    Ir  V"""" ^' 

own  1,..  *     •  ^"^  "^ ''  "'"n  after  Thine 

own  heart,  g,ve  „«  „  ChrisUike  man,  an  ^^ 
fashioned  preacher,  who  will  care  ZT\ut 
saving  souls  and  nnlri'nr*  ti  ^"'' 

■  -bout  catchi^rtC  p2, '^•''"'^PT''^'  ""''" 
„  ^  ^  popular  iancy,  and  erppfmr, 

a  monument  of  fame  for  himself !     We  vr  nf  ^^ 
power,  oh,  Lord  !    We  want  in  1         II  ^^^ 
knocked'in  the  head  rV         ^'/^^^^  ^^e  Devil 
me  iieatl !     Give  us  the  man  who  will 
be  instrumental  in  doing  it !  ' 

"  A«  soon  as  my  eyes  fell  on  the  new  preacher 
I  knew  he  was  the  right  man  in  the  riXt  Ice 
I  clapped  Benson  on  the  shoulder  and  fsk  d' 
How  does  he  fill  the  bijl  ? '  * 


THE  OLD-FASHIONED  PREACHER.       221 

'-  Glory  to  God,  lie's  all  right ! '  v/as  the  reply, 

I  know  a  good  okl-fashioiied  preacher  when  I 
see  him.'' 

"  His  appearance  in  itself  was  a  sufficient  rec- 
ommendation. He  was  a  magnificent  figure, 
tall  moderately  stout  and  square-shonldered, 
Ills  thick,  iron-gray  hair  brushed  back  from  a 
broad,  intellectual  brow.  His  eyes  were  as 
kind  and  gentle  as  a  woman's  when  she  is  in 
love ^" 

1^' Hear  hear!"  exclaimed  one  of  the  ladies. 
And  his  smile  was  very  genial.     He  had  a 
cheerful  greeting  and  a  warm  hand-shake  when- 
ever you  met  him.     During  the  two  years  that 
iie  was  our  pastor,  there  wasn't  a  word  of  serirtus 
cbsagreement  in  the  Board,  or  choir,  or  anywhere. 
He  oiled  the  machinery  of  that  church  so  that 
It  ran  as  smoothly  and  regularly  ^  clock-work. 
There  wasn't  a  hitcli,  and  the  tale-bearers  found 
themselves  out  of  a  job.     They  went  to  him,  as 
they  had  gone  to  the  others,  stating  that  certain 
unkind  remarks  had  been  made  about  him,  but 
bless  my  heart,  it  didn't  disturb  him  in  the  least.' 
He  understood  these  fellows  and  could  detect 
the  false  ring  in  their  statements,  and  discover 
the  underhand  motives  that  actuated  them. 

"'Let  them  say  what  they  please  about  n< 
he  would  respond  with  his  sunny  smile,  '  as 
long  as  they  don't  find  fault  with  m^  Master  ' 


mi 

■■•i  'I  r 


a 


.r:f| 


im 


222    SAlNTg,  smxEliU  AND  qUEBR  PEOPLE. 

thm^I  f"^  '"*''■'''  «°»«'''«™l'l<^  annoyance 
thiough  t^vo  men  on  the  trastee  board,  Snagg 
and  Bangs.  Whatone  wanted  the  other  object!! 
to  on  prmcple,  the  principle  of  natural  andcul- 
t.va  od  contrariness.     When  either  one  of  them 

would  alee  occasion  to  jump  up  and  condemn  the 
suggestion  unmercifully.     Tlien  the  two  would 
forget  that  anybody  else  had  anything  to  say  in 
he  matter  and  they  would  open  up  an  all-X 
debate  and  chew  the  rag  till  daylight;  wWle 
the  other  fellows  sat  around  and  groaned,  but 
daren  t  get  up  any  steam  on  their  own  account 
)oi  tear  of  a  general  smash-up. 

"Well,  Mr.  Grant  got  hold  of  these  triokera 
n  the  uiek  of  tune,  and  quieted  them  down 
tii  I  they  were  a,s  meek  as  lambs.     How  did  he  do 
.t,yo„ask?     Wel,,hehadasmooth,;e:it 
yentemanly  manner,  had  Grant,  and  he  had  the 
knack  of  statnigdisagreeable  facts  in  such  acour- 
teoi^  way  that  no  one  could  possibly  take  offence. 
He  talked  to  them  separately  and  together,  and 
when  they  tr.ed  to  quarrel  in  his  j^-esence  he 
e.MJamed,  calmly,  that  perhaps  the  only  cause 
of  disagreen,ent  existing  between  them  lay  i„ 
the  fact  that  they  were  apt  to  look  at  a  ques- 
tion from  lifferent  standpoints.  ^ 

"At  the  expiration  of  two  yeare,  or  rather  in 
the  beginning  of  his  third  j^ear,  his  health  be- 


ll 


THE  OLD-FASHIONED  PREACHER.        22B 

gan  to  fail  and  he  was  granted  leave  of  absence 
lor  SIX  niontlis ;  accordingly  he  took  a  trip  to 
Vancouver,  and  a  yomig  man  was  sent  to  Take 
"«  place.     The  Devil  is  pretty  cnte.     He  knows 
better  than  to  let  such  an  opportunity  slip.'   He 
knew  he  couldn't  do  much   to  wreck  the  good 
Hbip  Zion  as  long  as   Brother  Grant  was  at  the 
.elm  for  he  was  an  old  captain,  and  liad  been 
travelling  Heavenward  too  many  years  not  to 
know  the  signs  of  the  weather,  and  the  exact  po- 
sition of  every  rock  in  the  ocean.     But  Shiblev 
was  a  new  hand,  liable  to  make  mistakes,  and 
the  Devil  was  counting  o.i  his  inexperience  and 
intended  to  make  capital  of  it. 

"The   tale-bearers   took  fresh   courage,   and 
started  in  at  a  lively  pace  to  make  all  the  mis- 
chief   they  could.      Snagg  and  Bangs  kicked 
over  the  traces  again  and  fought  with  renewed 
vim.      The   choir  had  a  racket  among  them- 
selves  every  Friday  night  when  tliey  assembled 
for  practice.     Poor  Shibley  was  distracted,  but 
the  more  he  tried  to  mend  matters  the  worse 
they  became.     Finally  the  trouble  took  definite 
shape  and  became  concentrated  in  the  choir. 

"  A  jealous  alto  had  taken  a  spite  against  the 
soprano,  and  had  been  abusing  her  behind  her 
back  and  circulating  scandalous  rumors  con- 
cerning her.  The  intended  husband  of  the 
sopmw  ha4  avenged  the  girl's  wrongs  by  call. 


i^ 


224    SAINTS,  SLYNESS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

,     ing  the  alto  an  ugly  old  maid,  and  knockincr 
her  blather  on  the  head  with  a  club,  beeause 
he  luid  assisted  in  spreading  the  stories.     Tlien 
the  fathers  of  the   girls  met  late  at  night  and 
l^ad  a  few  rounds  which  left  one  of  tliem  with 
a  black  eye  and  tlie  other  with  a  lame  Icrv.     TJie 
bi'others  of  the   alto  threatened    to  throw  the" 
clio     ..eadcr  head  over  heels  over  the  clioir  rail- 
ing  and  smash  Slubley's  bald  liead  with  him,  if 
he  didn  t  gpt  up  and  out  and  give  tl)em  a  chance 
to  run  tlie  conceni  as  they  pleased.     He  was  a 
spunky  chap  and  he  wouldn't  go,  and  Shibley 
was  afraid  to  say  anything. 

"  Then  they  tried  to  induce  him  to  eject  the   ■ 
soprano,  but  he  refused  and  said  he  didn't  be- 
lieve a  word  of  such  scandalous  talk,  said  slie 
was  one  of  the  bestsingers  he  had,  and  he  wasn't 
going  to  put  her  out  because  of  any  woman's 
quarrel.     Tlien  there  was  a  split,  the  friends  of 
the  soprano,   comprising  the  majority  on  one 
side  and  the  friends  and  relatives  of  the  alto 
on  the  other,  and  the  malignity  waxed  furious. 
Uie  former  faction  posed  as  indignant  mar- 
tyrs   belied  by  tlieir  enemies,  the  latter  as  per- 
secutors  in  a  good  cause,  exemplifying  their 
righteousness  by  showing  how  hard  they  could 
hit  a  sinner.  *^ 

take  either  side,  indulged  tl>eir  relish  for  such  a 


■" '"  I 


TBE  OlD-rASmoNBD  PREACHBB.       225 
lively  state  of  affairs  by  condemning  ti.e  whole 
outfit  unmercifully,  an<I  con.ing  dofvn  llmmer 
a.Hl  tongs  on  the  frightened  /ou„g     r  X 
-gnly  demanding  what  he  nfeant  by  permU 

climch  instead  of  settiiig  his  foot  down  on  it 
a«  bother  Grant  would  htve  done 

"  All  the  old  ladies  had  something  to  say  about 
t,   and  they  tackled  him  right  and  left  1 

;"g>.i»Uodothisandthatl'd     L'if  ;^^^^ 
lie  was  nearly  distracted.      ■  '      ' 

"  ^'r'  ^'""«y  '"«l"'t  nmch  sand  in  him      He 
wa.  l,ke  a  rag  on  a  fence,  flapping  Wj",t 
,    e,ther  s.de  according   to  whicl.   ever  way  Z 
«md  blew.    He  tried  to  keep  on  eve  Zdvl 
o  t  sKle  for  the  sake  of  his  own  skin,  aSl 
the  thanks  he  got  for  it  was  hard  names     Both 
factions  were  out  of  patience  with  him.    MaHe  ^ 
were  at  their  worst.     Shibley  was  sick  in  t.^ 

rs"M  r  t,"  •;"'" "'  '^™'"'--  ''-"P- 

ill     I      '  "  ""^  ^^-'-i^Pered  that  she  was 

l"s  ng  her  reason  under  the  strain  of  troubr 

"There  was  talk  of  a  church  trial    and  tl; 

iightimnded  peiwn  prefer  heathendom  to  such 
a  mockery  of  Christianity.  ""'' 

Jl  rt"'  "  "*""'""■  "'y^^'f-  "^"t  I  was  a  regular 

attendant  upon  the  services,  and  interested  ,n 

church    work-   inr]    fi,«  ,       ""^^^^estea  in 

woiK,   and   the  preachers  and  I  were 


'.  I' 


inSX 


226    SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QUEER- PEOPLE. 

always  on  tlie  best  of  terms.  Giant  was  a  i)ai- 
ticularly  warm  friend  of  mine,  and  I  felt  the 
state  of  affairs  ratlier  keenly.  I  kept  out  of  the 
row  as  well  as  I  could,  but  it  wasn't  pleasant  to 
sit  in  church  and  see  the  women-folks  turning 
up. their  noses  at  one  another,  and  feel  tliat  the 
old  Nick  was  trotting  up  and  down  the  aisles 
patting  himself  in  triumph. 

"  But  help  was  at  hand  from  tlie  riglit 
quarter.  I  Was  up  at  the  depot  one  morning 
looking  after  some  freight,  when  wlicm  -hould  I 
see  step  off  that  blessed  train  but  Grant  himself, 
liis  fine,  genial  face  turned  pleasantly  towards 
the  bystanders  on  the  platform.  I  was  several 
yards  away  from  liim,  but  I  reached  him  in  two 
or  three  sti'ides  and  shook  liis  hand  so  heartily, 
that  I'm  afraid  it  ached  afterwards. 

"  '  Well,  Joe,  my  man,'  he  said  cheerily.  '  How- 
are  you  ?     It's  good  to  see  your  face  again  ! ' 

"  '  Oil,  I'm  well  enough,  considering  the  cir- 
cumstances,' I  replied. 

"  '  How's  the  church?'  he  asked  next. 

" '  It's  in  the  bottom  of  the  lake  of  fire  and 
brimstone,'  I  replied,  'and  the  Devil  is  making 
a  store-house  of  it.' 

"  He  stared  at  me  incredulously.  '  You  don't 
mean  it,'  he  said,  linking  his  arm  in  mine  as 
we  walked  along. 

"  I  told  him  that  the  scavengers  were  in  posses- 


Tni<:  OLD-FA SlIIONED  PnEACJtEtt.       227 

sion  and  tliat  tliey  were  cleaning  the  place  out, 
consequently  it  was  rather  odoriferous. 

"  '  The  scavengers  ?'  lie  repeated,  rubbing  his 
grand  old  head  in  a  bewildered  way. 

" '  Yes,  sir,'  said  I,  with  considerable  spirit, 
'the  self-riglitcous  Pharisees  who  thank  God 
they  are  not  as  other  men,  and  emphasize  the 
sentiment  by  kicking  the  other  men  out.' 

"  He  was  silent  a  long  time.  I  knew  that  lie 
was  sorely  touched  and  that  this  was  only  the 
beginning  of  what  would  be  a  great  trouble  to 
him.  At  last  he  said  with  the  slow  deliberation 
which  characterized  his  speech  at  all  times. 

"  '  It's  a  new  method  of  cleansing.  If  some 
dirty  children  came  to  my  door  I  would  take 
them  inside  and  clean  them  in  the  usual  way 
with  soap  and  water.' 

"  '  You're  behind  the  times,  sir,'  said  I,  '  the 
way  it's  done  nowadays  in  churches  is  to  firso 
chuck  them  out,  then  rub  them  down  with  a 
brick,  and  shove  them  back  into  the  gutter. 
Tlie  poor  sinners  are  not  made  whiter,  of  coui-se, 
but  the  church  is  kept  pure.' 

" '  And  what  is  the  church  for  if  not  for  the 
cleansing  and  regeneration  of  the  precious  souls 
for  whom  Christ  died  ?  '  he  said  sadly. 

"  '  I  had  a  long  talk  with  him  that  night  after 
supper.  We  sat  together  in  the  library  in  his 
house.     I  told  him  everything;  just  how   the 


'■    Mi!- 


m 


S2S  ^'^ALWS,  smN£R8  AND  QUEt:ti  PEOPLS. 
trouble  began  and  l,ow  far  it  had  gone.  He 
listened  with  bowed  head.  When  he  under- 
stood that  it  was  a  young  girl  who  was  beii.g 
bitten  by  the  poisonous  serpent,  Slander,  ho 
seemed  to  be  completely  overwhelmed  and  wept 
like  a  child.  ^ 

"'Ttniust  be  stopped !' he  said  suddenly, 
starting  from  his  chair.  Late  as  it  was  he 
went  out  into  the  night  to  find  some  of  the  in- 
terested  partie^  and  effect  a  reconciliation.  I 
walked  along  with  him,  though  I  had  no  inten- 
tion  of  going  into  anybody's  house. 

"'It   has   gone  so  far,'  he  said  sorrowfully, 
that  is  the  worst  of  it.     It  is  a  terrible  thin^ 
when   such   matters   become   public    propert>^ 
Siii^posing  what  they  say  is  true,  and  this  young 
ady  has  been  unfortunate,  in  the  past, why  should 
the  secret  be  unearthed  now,  when,  according  to 
my  observation  of  her,  she  is  living  a  perfectly 
consistent  Christian  life.     It  is  unjust,  it  is  cruel. 
And  her  people  are  so  highly  esteemed  too_oh. 
It  IS  a  shame  ! ' 

«  '  Yes,  sir,'  I  answered,  <  I'm  of  your  opinion. 
This  world  wouldn't  be  ^uch  a  bad  place  to  live 
in  If  It  wasn't  for  women's  tongues.  After  all, 
Its  these  professedly  good  people  who  make  all 
the  trouble,  and  are  always  getting  in  the  way 
of  the  light  sort  of  sinners  and  making  it  hard 
tor  them  to  do  the  square  thing.' 


m 


THi:  OLl)-FASlltONED  PUKACllF^R.        220 

" '  How  so  ? '  he  asked  Hliaiply. 

"  '  Well,'  said  I,  rubbing  my  chin  thouglitfully, 
which  is  ahabitlhavo  when  I'mevolv'  r^  a  bril- 
liant idea,  '  I  don't  know  whetljcr  I  can  explain 
it  exactly,  though  I've  a  clear  enough  notion  in 
my  mind  of  what  I  mean.  We  will  suppose 
that  a  dozen  of  these  proper,  censorious  women 
get  hold  of  a  spicy  bit  of  scandal  and  go  around 
town  and  talk  about  it,  stirring  up  the  evil  imag- 
ination and  vulgarity  of  street  loungers,  and  the 
malicious  maledictions  of  small-minded  women, 
who  gloat  over  the  details  and  hoard  them  away 
carefully  in  their  memory  with  the  other  stock 
of  bad  knowledge  which  they  have  derived  from 
various  sources.  Don't  these  women  do  a  great 
deal  more  harm  than  the  same  number  of  decent 
sinners  who  make  a  break  once  in  a  while  them- 
selves, perhaps,  but  keep  a  close  mouth  about 
such  things  ?     Certainly  they  do.' 

"  '  I  believe  you  are  right,  Joe,'  he  replied 
slowly.  *  They  do  more  harm  because  the}^  de- 
grade public  sentiment  and  give  rise,  as  you  say, 
to  the  hidden  iniquities  of  the  imagination, 
which  may  develop  any  day  into  the  open  act, 
corresponding  with  the  thought.' 

" '  Yes,'  I  continued,  '  if  decent  sinners  respect 
themselves  too  much  to  hawk  that  kind  of  stuff 
around  the  country,  why  should  religious  people 
want  to  dabble  in  it  ? ' 


i 


■  d 


'^i*" . 


S!30    SAINTS,  ,L\yens  AMD  ,/,t,:Hu  PKoPt. 


((  ( 


Perhaps  tlieir  mot 


said.     '  It  may  be  bocause  tl 


ves   are  li^rht,  Joe^»  j,^ 


evil 


ey  wisli  to  siippiess 


U  ( 


Their  motives  be  Iiano-ed 


that  s  wliat  they're  after,  they're  goi.u.  the 
vyay  about  it.     No,  they  want  to  d 


igfed,  sir!'  said   I,  'if 
wrong 

to  do  witli  ,t,  ,f»  a  clear  case  of  po-sonal  spleen 
from  sta  t  to  u.ish      I  hate  bul.io,  Christ!:':  " 
Mr.  Gmi,t  shook  his  head  and  siMied   wallr 
...g  .-"»"*  silently.     Presently  he  spoke  i.aW,' 
soft  vojce  that  had  a  queer  thrill  in  it.     It  seemec 
rr '  "'.'f  *""»«"■''«>■«  "■■""ml  the  heart. 

tr„«  rt  •        ^.™"''V'"'''"  """"  "■"''"■st^'Hl  that 
true  rel  g,on  ,s  a  religion  ot  love-love  to  ma„ 

and  God  and  that  all  that  savo,.  of  uncha     I 
«  direetly  co„t,-ary  to  the  Master's   teaching^ 
We  should  at  .all  times  try  to  make  life  e.asie 
for  one  another  instead  of  harder.    The  work  of 
gi»ce  within  us  is  made  more  pe,  feet  hy  n.utual 
helpfulness  mutual  love,  ..„d  forln-aranee.'    hI 
quoted  softly :_  "® 

•  "'ForHieloveofCiodisbroader 

Than  the  measure  of  man's  mind. 
And  the  heart  of  the  Eternal 
Is  most  wonderfully  kind.' 

"We  had  reached  the  home  of  thesopr.ano  by 

while r-  •.^'-  ^7"'  ^'^^'P"'  "P  '»  "-  "o- 
while  I  waited  at  the  gate.     He  didn't  go  in. 


/ 


/ 


fnn  oiD-irAsnioyED  i^itE 


ACllKli 


Tlie  mother  met  1 


1 


tliiit  Mary—tliat  was  1 


ii'n  on  the  thresliohl  ami  said 


em 


•ly  ill  tl 


le  evening.     The  womai 


lei-  name— Iiad  gone  out 


«  seemed  anx- 


ious and  had  the  careworn,  irritable  look  of  one 
who  has  suffered  mental  disturbance  from  the 
constant  nagging  of  inhuman  mortals,  called 
busy-bodies. 

"She  said  that  her  daughter  had  been  sick  in 
bed  for  several  day.,  but  this  evening  she  had 
insisted  upon  getting  up  and  going  for  a  walk, 
though  she  was  weak  and  looked  as  if  she 
liadn  t  strength  to  stand,  let  alone  walk,  and  she 
complained  of  a  queer  feeling  in  her  '    ad 

"'She  ought  to  have  returned  lo..^  ago,' she 
said.      T  don't  know  what's  keeping  her.     Glad 
to  see  you   back,  Mr.  .   , ant,' she  added  politely. 
Not  that  It  muKcs  much  difference  to  us  now.' 
"  '  II^w  s  that  ^  '  he  asked. 
"'We  have  left  the  church,'  she  explained, 
the    tears   starting   to  her   eyes.       '(^od   onlv 
knows    Mhat   we   have    suffered   the   last   few 
months  at  the  hands  of  people  who  call  them- 
selves   Christians.      They   have   tried     .    ruin 
my  husband's  business  and  my  daughter's  rep- 
utation.     Ihey  have  turned  our  fri.mds  against 
us,  and  If  the  law  of  the  land  would  permit  it, 
they  would  burn  the  house  over  our  heads  ;  and 
all   through   spiteful   jealousy.     I   wish   I  had 
never  laid  eyes  on  a  Methodist.' 


*  'if 


f  ''if 


I 

MM 

I 


232    SAINTS,  SIlfXBna  AND  qUEEB  PEOPLE. 

. " '  HusI,    my  dear  woman !  •  said  the  preacher 
knuly.      .  Don't  speak  rashly.     There  are  some 
good  ones  among  us,  I  hope ;   we  are  not  all 
like  that.     I  have  come  back  sooner  than  I  ex- 
pected.   I  should  have  preferred  for  many  rea- 
sons to  stay  but  something  kept  telling  me  that 
I  was  needed.    I  couldn't  shake  off  the  feeling. 
Now  I  know  that  the  Lord  h,^,  sent  me  to  gather 
together  the  wandering  sheep  of  the  flock,  and 
recover  the  lost  joys  of  Israel.     Have  faith  and 
patience,  and  these  troubles  will  come  nVht     I 
trust  that  next  Sabbath  we  will  n.eet  together 

Il'l^f'^^P™''"  ""•'  "''-"'k^giving,  rejoicing 
that  the  clouds  have  dispersed  to  make  way  for 

the  sunshine.'  *^ 

"  She  listened  to  him  in  respectful  silence,  the 
tears  trickling  down  her  cheeks. 

" '  I'll  take  a  walk  around  and  see  if  I  can  find 
Mary,  he  said  as  he  raised  his  hat  and  turned 
away  '  You  don't  know,  I  suppose,  which  direc 
tion  she  took  ? ' 

"  *  I  looked  out  of  the  window  shortly  after  she 
started,  'replied  the  mother,  *  and  thought  I 
saw  her  walking  towards  the  river.' 

"  Mr.  Grant  looked  at  me  in  a  startled  way,  as 
he  joined  me  at  the  gate. 

^  «  '  Poor  girl ! '  he  said  gently.  ^  Perhaps  she 
IS  sitting  near  the  water's  edge  indulging  sui- 
cidal  thoughts.     You  may  walk  part  of  the  wajr 


THE  OlD-PASHIONBD  PSMACSEtt.       233 
wUh^  me,  but  I  think  I  ,v„md  ^u.^r  see  her 

'"All  right,  sir.'     I  returned.     '  But  I'll  stroll 
up  and  down  the  forest  path  within  „  few  ;ard 
of  the  nver,  so  that  if  jou  don't  find  her  I  can 
have  t  e  pleasure  of  wallcing  back  with  ^ou  ' 

intorr"  T  "T  '"  *''^  "■»««'"&.  I  turned  off 
into  the  path  and  he  hurried  on. 

„,?'  '"'^  »  "beautiful  night,  n.ild  and  starry.    I 
made  myself  comfortable  against  a  tree  and  lit 

spLT'i  1^1' "^■' ^"'''•^"  ^ '■-«•'' ^'-^^^^^^ 

splash.    I  listened  again,  but  all  was  still,  and  I 
was  concluding  that  I  had  been  mistaken  when 

gurgling  kind  of  way.     I  ran  madly  through  the 

the  nvei.  There,  out  in  the  midst  of  the  water 
about.a  hundred  yards  from  shore,  I  b^  leldM  ' 
Gmnt  struggling  to  uphold  what  looked  ,ik!a 

tt:;7;':/asi::;:"=  --' '  ^-'^-"^  -^^--^ 

"At  a  short  distance  a  boat  was  floating,  bot- 

tom.s.de  upwards,  and  I  concluded  that  in  a  fit 

of  .ne  .ncholy  the  girl  had  thrown  he^elf  ftom 

;     X         ''^"'y  '"^"""^  ^^  and  plunged 

de  ^fv'"'  '^r''"'* ''''«"  ^  ^>^*'"  "P  "long- 
8  de  of  h.m.     The  girl  with  her  wateModdel, 

heav,ly  from  h>s  grasp,  the  water  gaping  huu- 


I:      li 


<  i, 


I 


234  SAINTS,  SINi^ERS  AND  QUEKli  PEOPLE, 

grilyat  eveiy  downward  dip  of  her  inanimate 
form. 

"  'Can  you  swim  to  sliore  with  her,  Joe?'  he 
gasped,  '  I'm  used  up,  don't  mind  me.' 

" '  All  right,  sir,'  I  replied,  encircling  her  with 
my  arm,  thankfully  conscious  of  my  ability  as  a 
swimmer.  '  I  can  manage  her.  Can  you  get  to 
shore  alone  ? ' 

He  nodded  in  the  affirmative. 
" '  Keep  close  behind  me  so  that  I  can  help  you 
if  you  need  it,'  I  said,  and  with  that  I  struck 
out.  I  made  quick  strokes,  but  it  wasn't  easy 
work;  she  was  more  of  a  weight  tlian  I  ex- 
pected, and  I  wjis  afraid  she  would  drag  me  down 
in  spite  of  myself;  but  at  last  we  got  to  land, 
then  I  looked  back  and  my  heart  stood  still. 

«  There  wasn't  a  sign  of  Mr.  Grant  anywhere. 
The  water  lay  calm  and  still,  glistening  Itke  a 
sheet  of  silver  beneath  the  sky ;  but  the  gray 
head  of  the  preacher  had  disappeared  beneath 
its  surface.  I  called  his  name ;  there  was  no 
answer,  only  an  awesome  silence.  I  sobbed 
aloud  like  a  frightened  boy  as  I  ran  through  the 
woods  with  my  dripping  burden,  looking  back- 
wards for  a  glimpse  of  the  familiar  face  rising 
to  tlie  surface.  But  the  river  lay  blank  and 
motionless. " 

Joe  paused  in  his  narrative,  shivered  slightly, 
and  covered  his  face  with  his  hands. 


THE  OLD-FA SUION ED  PREACHER.        235 

"  We  found  him  next  day,"  he  continued  un- 
steadily ;  "  and  on  Sunday  lie  was  buried.  The 
service  was  held  in  the  church.  I  never  was  at 
a  funeral  where  there  was  such  intense  emotion  ; 
everybody  was  weeping,  men  and  women  who 
had  quarrelled  and  hadn't  spoken  for  months 
were  clinging  to  one  another  and  cobbing  like 
little  children.  He  looked  beautiful  in  the  coffin 
Avhich  was  smothered  with  flowers.  His  face 
had  an  expression  of  joyous  surprise  and  loving 
welcome.  I've  no  doubt  the  look  came  to  him 
at  the  hM  moment,  as  he  caught  sight  of  the 
glory  th       /raited  him. 

"  As  tiie  people  passed  around  the  altar-railing 
to  take  a  long  last  look  at  their  beloved  pas- 
tor, I  thought  to  myself:  'Our  old-fashioned 
preacher  is  preaching  a  more  eloquent  sermon  at 
this  sad  moment,  than  any  which  fell  from  his 
living  lips.'  And  so  it  proved  to  be.  The  torn, 
distracted  church  was  reunited  and  strengthened, 
and  personal  enmity  and  bitterness  swallowed 
up  in  the  softening  influence  of  that  tender 
sorrow." 

There  was  a  long  silence  as  Joe  ceased  speak- 
ing. The  fire  had  burned  down,  and  emitted 
only  a  fitful  blaze  from  the  blackened,  smoulder- 
ing wood. 

"He  was  the  right  sort  of  a  preacher,"  said 
Andrews,  hoarsely — "  the  clear  stuff  all  through. 
A  man  like  that  would  uouvert  me." 


i 


!    I 


•M< 


I  i 


'm 


236    SAmTS,  SINifEBS  AND  qVEEH  PmPZK 

"Ma'decTwelU  "  t'"'  Joe,  .-ousing  himself. 
Mauied  well  too;  has  a  fine  home  and  a  nice 

me  and  a' '';.  ^"'  "'  *^  ^^'^  ^  »»"<">  ■''" 
!:  w      T^"  ''  """^'l  K'^hard  Grant." 

lated !-     asked  Mis.  Andrews. 


the 


5elf. 
lice 
her 

cu- 

ive 
jn- 

•er 


MRS.  CHESTER. 


The  breakfast-room  of  the  Dimsdale  mansion 
presented  a  cheery  and  festive  appearance,  and 
was  pervaded  by  a  subtle  atmosphere  of  ghid- 
ness,  vvliich  was  indicated  not  only  by  the  pro- 
fusion of  fresh-cut  flowers  and  other  floral  de- 
corations, but  by  the  bright  faces  of  the  five 
persons  who  sat  closely  together  in  a  lovin<r 
semi-circle  before  the  blazing  grate  fire.  ** 

It  was  an  occasion  of  double  rejoicing ;  not 
only  was  it  Christmas  morning,  but  the  favorite 
son  and  brother  who  had  been  traveling  in 
Europe  for  tliree  years  had  just  returned  unex- 
pectedly, and  was  now  the  central  attraction  of 
the  family  group. 

Two  young  girls,  aged  respectively  sixteen 
and  eighteen,  clung  to  him  affectionately,  as  they 
plied  him  with  questions  about  his  journey  and 
exparienees  in  foreign  lands,  while  the  mother, 
who  was  a  widow,  a  dignified  woman  with  white 
hair  and  firm  lips,  sat  almost  in  silence,  but  with 
a  softened  expression  in  her  eyes  as  they  rested 
upon  her  long-absent  son,  which  belied  the  vague 


Otpr-r 


"if 


238    SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

impression  of  severity  one  might  receive  from  a 
general  survey  of  her  features. 

The  younger  son,  Harry,  wlio  had  been  the 
head  of  the  houseliohl  during  Jack's  absence, 
and  who  had  reached  the  sentimental  and  self- 
important  age  of  twenty-one,  monopolized  no 
small  sliare  of  the  conversation  by  a  boastful 
account  of  his  good  management  of  home  affairs, 
financial  and  otherwise. 

Jack  himsfllf  looked  tired  and  travel-worn,  but 
thoroughly  amiable  and  comfortable  as  lie  leaned 
back  in  the  luxurious  easy-chair  and  lazily  ob- 
served his  surroundings. 

"It  is  good  to  be  liome  again  after  all  my  wan- 
derings," he  said  with  a  contented  sigh.  "  How 
nice  the  old  place  looks  and  how  tall  and  hand- 
some you  girls  have  grown  !  I  suppose  you 
consider  yourselves  young  ladies  now  ?  " 

"  They've  both  got  beaus,"  Harry  remarked 
brusquely,  as  if  that  fact  settled  the  question. 
"Gentlemen  friends,  Jack,"  corrected  Mrs. 
Dimsdale  with  dignity,  "and  they  call  upon  the 
family.'  I  hope  I  know  how  to  bring  up  young 
girls  properly." 

"  You  are  quite  right,  mother,"  returned  Jack, 
as  he  pinched  the  rosy  cheek  of  the  elder  sister, 
"  don't  allow  them  any  undue  privileges.  I  wish 
you  could  see  how  carefully  the  maidens  of 
France  are  guarded  and  watched." 


Mas.  CHESTER.  239 

"  Don't  tell  her  anything  about  it,  please," 
said  Minnie  tlie  younger,  with  a  comical  little 
grimace  of  disgust,  "  it's  bad  enougli  as  it  is." 

The  mother  smiled  grimly  as  she  bent  over 
her  needle-work.  The  set  lines  of  her  face  even 
in  momentary  flashes  of  amusement  gave  evi- 
dence of  great  determination,  and  a  will  power 
rigid  as  iron. 

"  Have  you  found  your  bright  particular  star  ^ 
yet?"  asked  Harry  jjointedly.  Being  in  a 
love-lorn  condition  himself  and  looking  forward 
with  a  youtli's  crude  fancy  to  the  culminating 
happiness  of  matrimony,  this  suggested  itself  to 
him  as  a  natural  question. 

Jack  laughed,  flushing  slightly  and  feeling 
confused  as  lie  met  the  curious  intent  glances 
of  the  girls. 

"The  conversation  of  this  family  is  becoming 
too  personal  to  be  quite  polite,"  he  said,  grace- 
fully avoiding  the  point. 

As  he  spoke  he  had  a  fleeting  remembrance 
of  the  sweet  face  and  gentle  voice  of  a  bonnie 
Scotland  lass,  whose  shy  friendship  had  seemed 
to  drown  his  bitter  memories  as  effectually  as 
the  fabled  waters  of  Lethe.  She  had  promised 
to  write  and— well  who  could  tell  what  would 
be  the  outcome  ? 

A  variety  of  motives  had  induced  him  to  start 
on  his  extended  European  tour,  but  the  aU-im- 


i'l; ' 


4 

I  hi 


Hi 


240    SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QUEEU  PEOPLE. 

peiative  one  lay  very  close  to  the  sacred  pre- 
cincts of  his  heart  and  had  not  been  explained 
to  the  world  at  large.     The  true  inwardness  of 
the  matter  was  that  he  had  gone  to  escape  from 
the  misery  of  a  disappointed  love.     Nellie  Cress- 
well,  the  dear   companion  of  his  boyhood,  and 
choice  of  his   maturer  years,  having   fiustrated 
his  hopes  by  uniting  herself  to  that  objectionable 
and  inconvenient  individual  commonly  called 
"Another.'?  ''  ' 

To  make  matters  woi-se,  this  other,  thougli 
a  rich   and  prominent  citizen,  was  altogether 
unsuitable    to   the   girl   by  reason   of  temper- 
ament.    The   young  wife  was  exquisitely  sen- 
sitive, Avell  bred  and  dainty;  of  fine  feeling  and 
cultured  discernment.     Mr.  Chester,  like  many 
other  men  who  have  suddenly  risen  from  humble 
origin  to  affluence,  was  essentially  vulgar  and 
grovelling,  in  his  tendencies.     Nature  had  not 
made  him  a  gentleman,  and  no  amount  of  social 
prestige  can  make  good  such  a  deficiency. 

Jack,  having  endured  as  long  as  he  could  the 
sight  of  his  sweetheart's  gilded  misery,  dropped 
everything  in  a  fit  of  desperation  and  sailed 
acror.s  the  ocean. 

Now,  on  his  return,  he  fancied  that  his  wound 
was  healed,  and  that  he  would  experience  no 
sensations  of  regret  when  brought  into  contact 
with  the  familiar  associations  of  Auld  Lang  Syne 


vj 


241 


the 


MRS.  CflBSTEn. 
But  the  heart  of  u,a„  is  an  inexplicable  nr, 
It  refuses  to  subn.it  to  the  sovereignty 
wil  and  «  not  amenable  to  reason. 

baeCr  l"'    "'""^'"^    V>^^^\.i.nay  turned 
backwau^   he  saw   tantalizing   images  i„   the 
dancn,g  blaze  which  made  the   blood  flol  „t 
a  qn.cker  pace  through   his  veins.     He    ried 
weakly  not  to  think  of  her  and  succeeded  I^ 
controlhng   the   aln.ost    irresistible  iZt    " 
ask  quesfons  concerning  her.     She  Zl^, 
ZV  ''."".""^^'"""""g-    Sl.e  had  taken  her 

;:'r.  i'^  •;-•  "■"  i'> '  -  a  s;  Cr :: 

feel    mjured,   although   he   had   always  ?„ved 

her  and  .t  had  been  the  one  great  pu';;„^e: 
his  life  to  woo  and  win  her,  when  the  riaht 
time  should  come.  ^  ' 

They  had  drifted  on  contentedly  as  the  best 
of  friends,   while   he,  strong  i„   the  sens,  of 
possession  and  believing  that^vith  «  u^ 
'  fa.ling  intuition  she  knew  all  that  was  in  Z 
eart,  was  hopefully  weighing  the  chances  o   the 
future,  and  seeking  to  build  his  happiness  cai^! 
fully  upon  a  firm  foundation.    Peiiian,  if 
not  her  fault  that  his  dreamw.^  soTu     cT 
and  rudely  dispelled  by  the  announcement  of    „ 
engagement,  perhaps  she  did  not  unde«ta„d  he 
delicate  reservations  of  his  attitude  toward  he' 


m 
m 


:m 


242     SAINTS,  SINNEltS  ANT)  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

All,  well,  it  was  i)ast,  the  pain  aiitl  disap- 
poiiitnient  of  it,  and  it  was  clearly  Lis  duly  to 
foiget. 

He  moved  faitlier  from  the  fiie,  knowing 
that  the  mystic  beauty  of  dancing  ilames  has  a 
direct  effect  upon  the  imaginalion,  and  is  apt  to 
warm  instead  of  cool  any  dtjiniant  germs  of 
sentiment.  But  change  of  position  did  not 
restore  his  normal  equilibriniu.  Ho  became 
absent-mind6d  and  answered  questions  at  ran- 
dom. 

At  luncheon  he  was  almost  silent,  but  no  one 
seemed  to  notice  it.  His  sisters  chatted  cheer- 
fully, and  Harry,  with  the  insistence  of  a  young 
fledgling  trying  his  wings,  expanded  volubly  in 
all  directions,  expressing  his  opinion  upon  all 
manner  of  subjects  including^  politics  and  reli- 
gion. Jack  gave  scant  attention,  but  smiled  in- 
dulgently. He  had  been  just  such  a  self-sufficient 
young  prig  himself  once. 

The  girls  were  observing  him  closely,  making 
mental  comments  as  to  his  changed  ai^pearance. 
The  incipient  moustache  which  before  his  depai^ 
ture  had  been  so  indistinct  as  to  be  a  mere  glint 
of  prophecy,  was  now  an  accomplished  fact,  its 
yellow  silky  strands  curling  away  in  a  Frenchy 
twist  from  his  full  upper  lip.  As  a  lad  he  had 
been  called  pretty.  The  ladies  who  had  called 
Qn  his  mother  wlieu  this  scion  of  the  house  of 


MliS.  mTKSTEn. 


243 


Dimsitalo  wan  toddling  in  kilts,  luulguslied  ovtu' 
his  Siixon  beauty  witli  true  feminine  ardor,  ex- 
claiming iiii)turou«ly  as  they  handed  him  around 
to  l>e  kissed  : 

.  "  Isn't  ho  just  too  sweet  for  anything  with 
his  blue  eyes  and  golden  hair?  The  little  dar- 
ling ought  to  have  been  a  girl !  " 

As  a  long-limbed,  immaculately  clothed  youth 
he  liad  still  been  considered  effeminate.  Now 
at  twenty-eiglit  lie  had  outgrown  his  callow  pre- 
tensions, and  had  acquired  a  mature  knowl- 
edge of  the  world  and  human  nature,  which  is 
derived  from  superior  social  advantages.  His 
views  of  life  were  broadened,  his  boyish  pre- 
judices and  asperities  softened,  his  perceptions 
shaj'pened,  his  sympathies  enlarged  and  intensi- 
fied. He  was  now  a  man,  every  inch  of  him, 
physically  and  mentally. 

"  What  is  the  programme  for  the  day  ?  "  lie 
asked  in  the  midst  of  a  How  of  small  talk.  «  I 
think  I'll  have  a  quiet  read  and  smoke  and  drop 
in  to  the  clul)  later  on." 

"  Nothing  of  the  sort,"  exclaimed  Miss  Min- 
nie indignantly.  "You  are  our  returned  prodi- 
gal and  we  have  killed  the  fatted  calf  for  you. 
You  must  i-emain  at  home  to  eat  it,  and  receive 
the  embraces  of  yonr  friends." 

"  I  have  invited  a  number  of  your  old  ac- 
quaintances to  dinner  at  seven-thirty,"  explained 


u 


■  (111 
, .  Hi; 


if 


7 


M 


m 


244  ^Amrs.  stN>,sns  Am  hubbh  pbopib. 

'■'"  '"»"'«'•  with  precise  accent      "  r  ii        , 
,    le  JKid  not  the  remotest  intention  of  ^ivin^  w!v 

A  vague  doubt  crossed  his  mind      n 

He  began  to  be  un.easonably  annoyeclwi  h  T 
«"d  Iu»  sisters  for  avoiding^l.e  me,  l  T' 

toput^^to^S^^^ 

"  I  suppose  the  Cliesterswillbe  here' " 

If  a  bombshell  had  exploded  at  their  feet  it 

The, rls  flushed  aldlooten^ih^^rt 

febe^rvorfar'"^-^'^- 


^fiis.  ciii:srKit. 


245 


"Did  you  ],ear  iiKMnollicrr' insisted  Jade 
who  uudorstood  l.er  prevaiiciitln-  natuio. 

*'  Yes,  wliat  did  you  say,  my  son  i  "  sho  .wked 
tromulously. 

"  You  know  u'liat  I  said." 

"About  the  Chesters?  No,  they  will  not  l)e 
Here,    slie  replied  r.titii  . 

"We  don't  enierlain  |.:,o«ts,"  laughed  Harry, 
with  a  poor  atteu'Tjt,  at  J0(  ularity. 

"  I  dou't  understr    i/.said  Jack,  wit),  a  strange 

deld?''  ^''''''     "'"'  ^^'^^' ^^-^^^-i«  *^« 

There  was   another  awkward  silence  which 

was  broken  at  last  by  Harry  saying  abruptly: 

1  es   he  s  dead,  of  course,  died  two  yeai^  a^o : 

and  she's— well,  she's "  "* 

Mrs.  Dimsdale  taking  up  the  unfinished  sen- 
tence  nerved  herself  for  a  supreme  effort,  her  thin 
lips  closing  over  her  words  with  a  stern  rigidity 
that  was  almost  fierce. 

"She  is  alive  in  the  flesh  but  to  all  intents 
Hnd  purposes  she  is  dead  ;  dead  to  all  who  once 
knew  her-dead  to  her  old  friends,  dead  to  re- 
spec  tabilitj',  dead  to  the  Church."  Mrs.  Dimsdale 
bad  been  an  amh  tious  elocutionist  in  her  humble 
younger  days,  and  her  conversation  was  apt  to 
be  adorned  with  oratorical  periods. 

Jack  stared  in  astonishment  then  broke  into 
a  harsh  laugh. 


1^ 


.1* 


I' 


\4. 


•Tfti 


I 


S46    SAINTS,  SlNNEIiS  AND  QUmJIt  PEOPLE. 

"  It  must  be  hard  for  a  flesli  and  blood  Avoman 
to  be  as  dead  as  that,"  lie  said  with  a  touch 
of  scorn.  "It  seems  to  be  a  case  of  buried 
alive." 

"  She  is  socially  ostracized,"  said  Mrs.  Dimsdale 
severel3\ 

"  You  are  talking  in  riddles,  mother,  and  I 
don't  like  it.  You  know  me  well  enough  to 
know  that  there  are  times  when  I  am  not  to  be 
trifled  with."  ' 

"  What  shall  you  wear  to-night,  Ethel?"  re- 
sumed Mi-s.  Dimsdale,  addressing  her  youngest 
daughter  with  the  air  of  dismissing  an  unpleasant 
subject ;  and  the  talk  drifted  with  too  evident 
haste  from  the  dangerous  channel. 

As  they  concluded  the  meal  and  rose  from 
the  table  Jack  touched  his  mother's  arm  and 
asked  her  to  go  into  the  library  with  him.  She 
complied  leluctantly.  When  they  hod  entered 
he  closed  the  door,  and  moving  forward  an  easy- 
chair  motioned  to  her  to  be  seated. 

"  Now,  mother,"  he  said  firmly.  «  what  is 
all  this  mystery  about  Mi's.  Chester?  Why 
should  so  simple  a  question  mal^e  you  act  so 
strangely  ?  You  are  hiding  something  from  me 
and  I  intend  to  get  to  the  bottom  of  it.  I  sus- 
pect that  you  have  not  been  quite  frank  with 
me.  Several  times  in  my  lettei-s  home  I  have 
inquired  about  her— it  was  only  natural  that  I 


r^  :i 


Mas.  CTtESTEli. 


^47 


il     I 


should,  we  were  friends  from  childhood  ;  but  I 
received  no  tanswer.  I  have  not  kept  up  u  cor- 
respondence with  any  one  outside  of  our  family, 
and  as  my  newspapers  failed  to  leach  me  regu- 
arly,  I  had  no  6ther  means  of  informing  myself 
as  to  home  matters.  I  have  wondered  that  you 
never  mentioned  Mrs.  Chester." 

Mrs.  Dimsdale's  long,  thin  hands  fluttered 
nervously  in  her  lap  and  her  eyes  were  down- 
cast lis  she  replied  stiffly : 

"  I  did  what  was  right.  No  one  can  accuse 
me  of  wrong  judgment.  It  was  well  that  you 
should  not  hear  of  the  scandal  about  her  ;  I  pur- 
posely kept  it  from  you.  I  knew  you  were  fond 
of  her  once  and  might  be  again,  and  I  dreaded 
your  coming  back  and  entangling  youi-self  witli 
her  disgrace." 

"  What  disgrace  ?  "  he  asked  sharply. 

The  mother  sat  silent  a  moment,  then  with 
tightly  compressed  lips  raised  her  eyes  to  her 
son's  face  and  gave  him  one  of  her  keen,  in- 
domitable glances.  She  chose  her  words  with 
a  slow  deliberation  that  was  exasperating. 

"  She  disgraced  herself  by  infidelity  to  lier 
husband,  and  the  knowledge  of  it  killed  him. 
She  was  holding  a  private  interview  at  midnight 
with  a  stranger,  and  Mr.  Chester  coming  sud- 
denly upon  the  scene  shot  at  the  man,  who,  how- 
ever, escaped  ;  then,  the  excitement  proving  too 


1  ''i 


1^?  ■■' 


m 


■htfi 


i* 


1 

!;! 

■ 

--•iri'^H 

■mt 

r  t-  tit  HHHHI 

!■ 

I 

f  f 

1 

1 

1 

248     SAINTS,  SINNEliS  ANT)  QUEm  PEOPLE. 

much  for  him,  he  dropped  doNvii  in  a  paralytic 
stroke  of  which  lie  died  in  n  few  days." 

«  Mother,  how  could  you  believe  such  a  thing 
of  her,— you  who  knew  her  from  infancy  and 
were  such  an  intimate  friend  of  her  family  ? 
Surely,  even  if  you  had  suspicions  you  didn't 
turn  against  her  ?  " 

"What  else  could  I  do?    Could  I  associate 
with  a  depraved  creature  like  that?     Could  I 
bring  her  here  to  contaminate  my  own  daughters 
your  pure  young  sisters  ?    I  don't  understand 
you.  Jack." 

"Nor  I  you,  mother,"    he   returned  sadly. 
"  But  are  you  sure  this  story  was  true?  " 

"  Certainl3^     She   never  denied  it ;  that  is 

she  didn't  deny  the  facts  though  she  protested 

her  innocence  as  a  true  wife.     But  the  circum- 

■  stances  were  all  against  her.     Oli,  it  made  quite 

a  stir.     It  was  in  all  the  papers." 

"  And  therefore  iiecessarily  true,"  he  added 
bitterly.     "  Where  is  she  now  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Cliester  was  heavily  in  debt,"  continued 
Mrs.  Dimsdale  in  her  placid  way,  not  seeming 
to  hear  the  question,  «  his  affairs  were  in  a  very 
bad  shape,  much  worse  tlian  anybody  suspected, 
and  when  he  died  everything  went  to  pay  his 
creditors.     She  was  left  almost  penniless." 

"  But  where  is  she  ?  "  he  asked  a  second  time. 
"Why  do  you  evade  my  questions,  mother?" 


249 


MRS.  CHmTEH 

there  was  a  note  of  extreme  irritation  in  his 
voice. 

She  continued  irrelevantly  as  if  lost  in  deep 
thought :  "  It  was  so  sad,  terrible.  I  was  thank- 
ful that  her  fatherand  mother  Avere  dead,  that  no 
one  was  left  belonging  to  lier  to  suflfer  through 
her  misconduct." 

Jack,  unable  any  longer  to  control  himself, 
took  a  sudden  stride  forward  and  laid  his  strong 
hand  almost  roughly  on  her  shoulder. 

"  mere  is  she  ?  "  he  demanded  harshly. 

"  Your  manners  haven't  improved,"  responded 
his  mother  quietly.  «  How  should  I  know  where 
she  is  ?  " 

"  But  you  do  know  and  I  insist  on  your  tell- 
ing me." 

"  Well,  if  you  must  know  she  is  here  in  the 
city ;  her  house  is  316  Sherbourne  Street." 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said  as  he  hurried  out  into 
the  hall.  « It  would  have  been  as  easy  to  tell 
me  first  as  last." 

He  was  rapidly  putting  on  his  overcoat  and 
caj). 

Mrs.  Dimsdale  suddenly  divined  the  situation 
and  became  affrighted  by  it. 

"  Jack,  you  are  not  leaving  us  to  go  to  her  on 
this  your  fii-st  day  home,  and  on  Christmas  day, 
too?  "she  said  pleadingly.  "  Oh,  my  son,  be 
warned  by  me,  you   are  so  impulsive.    Don't 


^  ''■  • 


fi ' 


1.1 

; 


II 


'if 

■  v\ 


i'i_i 


250    SAINTS,  SiNNtJRS  AND  QtTEER  PEOPLE. 

go  to  that  woman,  she  is  an  outcast  from  society. 
None  of  our  set  associate  with  her " 

He  jerked  himself  away  from  her  with  a  vio- 
lent movement  that  denoted  a  mixture  of  anger, 
pain,  and  repudiation. 

"  My  God ! "  lie  said  intensely  under  his 
breath,  "  is  there  anything  on  earth  so  cruel  as 
woman's  treatment  of  woman?"  He  opened 
the  door  and  went  out,  leaving  her  standing  in 
the  hall  with  a  helpless,  startled  look  on  lier 
face.  At  the  gate  he  met  Harry,  who  was  return- 
ing from  a  stroll. 

"So  you  had"*t  manliness  enough  to  take  the 
part  of  a  slandered  woman  ?  "  he  said  indig- 
nantly. 

Harry  looked  disconcerted.  "  Well,  you  see 
our  folks  were  so  down  on  her,"  he  returned 
self-defensively,  "  and  the  girl  I'm  keeping  com- 
pany with  said " 

"  Bah !  "  exclaimed  Jack  contemptuously, 
turning  on  his  heel. 

It  was  a  typical  Canadian  Christmas.  From 
a  tender  gray  sky  the  snow  palpitated  silently 
in  large,  soft,  feathery  flakes,  and  nestled  ujuin 
the  outstretched  limbs  of  the  bare  trees.  The 
air  was  fresh,  crisp,  and  invigorating.  A  few 
elegant  equipages  dashed  by  at  a  fine  rate  of 
speed,  liiden  with  dainty  types  of  womanhood 
wmpped  in  costly  furs ;  the  proud,  prancing  step 


I. -I 


MRS.  criEsrEB. 


251 


of  the  thorouglibred  steeds  giving  no  uncertain 
indication  of  the  wealth  and  aristocracy  of  their 
owners. 

Jack  remembered  how  Nellie  Cresswell  had 
given  commands  to  her  coachman,  and  had 
looked  so  beautiful  leaning  back  in  the  lux- 
urious cushions.  He  wondered  if  she  still 
went  out  driving  in  modified  style.  It  was  hard 
to  realize  that  she  Avas  poor ;  how  poor  he  did 
not  know,  as  his  mother  had  not  been  very 
definite  on  that  point.  Of  course  she  had  been 
reduced  to  the  necessity  of  earning  her  living, 
but  Nellie  was  clever  and  would  prove  equal  to 
such  aii  emergency. 

As  he  turned  off  from  the  avenue  with  its 
double  row  of  palatial  residences,  into  the  main 
thoroughfare,  he  observed  a  few  of  his  old  com- 
rades sauntering  towards  him  at  a  leisurely, 
holiday  pace.  He  pulled  his  cap  over  his  eyes, 
sunk  his  chin  lower  into  the  depths  of  his  fur 
collar  and  crossed  to  the  opposite  pavement. 
He  was  in  no  mood  for  hail-fellow-well-met 
greetings.  As  he  walked  along  his  thoughts 
became  so  intense  and  rapid  as  to  be  painfully 
confusing. 

"  Wliat  if  this  scandalous  rumor  were  true  ? 
Would  his  mother  not  be  justified  in  the  '^ourse 
she  had  taken,  would  it  not  have  been  a  delib- 
erate compromise  witli  evil  if  she  had  done  other- 


•■.  (■ 


.ut 


M 


I'll 


h  iiV 


252     SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

Avise  ?  "  It  was  customary  u\  their  circle  to  spurn 
a  leprobate  woman  with  sctuit  ceremony,  if  she 
Wi\^  poor  or  unfriended  by  the  SlUe,  and  lie  knew 
that  Mrs.  Dimsdale  was  nothing  if  not  conve;>- 
tional. 

The  sole  object  of  her  life  seemed  lo  be  to 
conform  strictly  to  the  codes  and  exactions  of 
polite  society.  She  wvis  entirely  superficini, 
and  based  her  rr;:,:,ons  Uj.on  popular  beliefs  and 
prejudices.  She  :*.  id  i-  prim iti  ve  method  of  judg- 
ing humanity,  divHuig  ^hmn  into  two  separate 
heaps  labelled  "  good '  and  -  bad,"  and  they  were 
either  good  or  bad  not  so  much  on  account  of 
their  conduct,  as  I^ecause  the  magnates  of  tlje 
upper  circle  had  decreed  that  they  should  be  so 
called. 

As  to  the  intricate  hidden  mechanism  of  mo- 
tives, heredity,  or  environment,  she  had  no  in- 
terest in  it,  she  had  no  wish  to  dive  into  the 
depths  of  reason  or  conjecture,  when  it  was  so 
much  easier  to  keep  to  the  surface  and  swim 
with  the  shallow  tide  of  public  opinion.     Her 
own  sheltered  life  had  made  her  severe  in  her 
censure  of  all  unfortunate  persons  who  yielded 
to  temptation;  the  thing  itself,  as  touching  the 
moral  forces  of  life,  was  an  unknown  quantity 
to  her,  and  as  is  tlie  case  invariabl3%  ignorance 
and  inexperience  had  begotten  a  certain  narrow- 
pess  that  is  antagonistic  to  charity.  * 


ail 


MRS.  CHESTER.  253 

No  one  knew  tliis  better  tlian  her  eldest  son, 
d  no  one  had  more  cause  to  regret  it  than  he, 
now  when  he  knew  that  she  had  turned  against 
the  child  of  her  most  intimate   friend,  without 
even  giving  her  that  opportunity   to   vindicate 
herself  which   common  justice  demanded.     A 
feeling  of  intense  bitterness  took  possession  of 
him.     For  the  first  time  in  his  filial  experience 
he  was  indignant  with 'his  mother.      Surely  a 
woman    in    Mrs.   Chester's    circumstances,   or- 
phaned  at  an   early  age  and    married    in   her 
immaturity  to  a  man  many  years  her  senior, 
was    entitled   to    the    utmost    generosity  and 
leniency  of    judgment,    in   regard    to  any   in- 
discretions of    which  she    might    have   been 
guilty. 

Knowing  the  woild  as  he  did,  he  could  easily 
gauge  the  temptations  of  a  charming  society 
woman  unfortunately  situated,  and  could  find 
excuses  for  many  things  which  would  liave 
sliocked  his  motlier  beyond  hope  of  forgiveness. 

Nevertheless  he  had  a  high  ideal  of  pure 
womanhood  to  whicli  lie  paid  homage,  and  con- 
stantly cherished  in  coimection  with  a  seciet 
hope  which  might  some  day  be  realized ;  and 
presently,  in  spite  of  his  efforts  to  avoid  the 
subject,  he  found  himself  becoming  uncomfort- 
ably interested  in  the  tragic  story  he  had  just 
heard.    Hi^  mother's  vague  insinuations  stirred 


m 


''  if:. 


'I 


m 


254   SAINTS.  siyyERs  and  queer  people. 
W»M.„easily  and  took  a  firm  l.old  of  Jus  i„,agi„. 

"Wlmt  if  tl,is  vile  tiling  were  true"  he 
a«k«^^„n.elf,  "how  would  it  affect  .,i.fe,i„g: 
towards  th.s  woman  who  had  been  tl,e  eon.nal 
1011  of  h,s  childl,ood,  the  ehoice   of  his  eaHv 

nianhood,   the   inspiration   of  his  ent!::  S 
Could  he  n,  just.ce  to  hiu.self  and  his  family 
make  her  Ins  w.te  or  even  continue  the  frank 
fnendslnp   which   had    existed   l,etween   them 
previous  to  l,s  departure?"     Yet  how  to  believe 

lit'' faith.  ^        '  """  '"''   ""^  ^"I"'""«  '^^'  °f 
A  sharp  pang  shot  through  his  heart  as  by  a 

ull tvt    r"';t""\"^'"""-  -"-io»-ess   he 

f«     extent  of  Ins   love  was  revealed   to  him. 

Supposing  she  had  sinned  would  he,  John 

Dimsdale  take  upon  himself  the  unwarrantable 

presumphon  of  judging  and  condemning  her' 

Sbould  he  have  the  Iiypoerisy  to  stand  aloof, 

in   Pharisaical  attitude  and   utter  the  popular 

platitudes  upon  virtue  ?    No,  God  forbid  ' 

"  And  yet,  can  a  blemished  name  be  washed 
.so  white  that  there  is  no  f^e  of  the  stain,  ca.  a 
cankered  rose  regain  ite  pure,  pristine  beauty'  " 
Ah,-the  thought  was  too  painful,  yet  he  nerved 
lumself  to  face  it.  Gradually  a  tender  com- 
passion  stole  in  upon  his  tortnre.l  senses  like 
sudden  calm  after  a  storm  ;  his  heart  burned  ' 


MRS.  CHESTER.  gSS 

in  fervent,  cliivalrous   defence  of   the  girl   he 
loved.  ° 

"  I'oor  little  Nellie,  life  had  been  hard  for 
her    and    the   world    was   cruel!      He   would 
take   her  away   with   him   to  Europe  and  she 
would  soon  forget  the  miserable  past.     In  the 
midst   of  congenial   surroundings    she   should 
liave  ample  opportunity  to  develop  her  noblest 
possibilities,  and  the  sad  time  wherein  she  had 
been  untrue  to  her  highest  instincts  of  woman- 
liness sliould  be  banished  from  her  memory  like 
a  hateful  dream." 

He  was  so  occupied  with  his  thoughts  that 
It  was  a  surprise  to  him  when  he  looked  up  sud- 
denly  and  found  that  he  had  reached  his  destina- 
tion.     Number  316  was  a  small  brick  house  of 
unpretentious  appearance,  but  gave  evidence  of 
a  refined  inmate.     The  two  front  windows  were 
prettily  curtained  and  filled  with   rare  house- 
plants.     There  was  an  air  of  almost  supernatural 
stillness  about  the  place  which  struck  Dimsdale 
unpleasantly,  but  he  was  in  too  sanguine  and 

thot'tt''  "''''''^  ^"^  ^'''''  '^  """"'^  ^^'''''  ""  P"""'"'^ 
He  bounded  ^ip  the  steps  and  rang  the  bell 
impetuously.  The  door  opened  softly  and  a 
sweet-faced  old  lady  in  a  plain  black  dress  and 
white  cap  stood  before  him  md  said  in  a  sub- 
clued  voice ; 


r  ' 


\"\I:M 


•  i\' 


in] 


auG    SAINTS,  SI^yj^Bs  AND  qUBMH  Pt:oPlE. 

"Good-afteriio 

Jed.  ""'   '*'"'"    '"'•  ^'"^^'^^   "^«»?"   he 

"It  is      Not  that  she'll  live  here  lone  noor 
lamb.     W  ill  you  step  in,  sir  ?  "  *^'  '^°" 

.    "May  I  see  her,  please''  ■,„  ,„,„,„.ea  ,„. 

St.  1  stepping  softly  she  led  the  way  into  the 
parlor  .nd  offered  hin,  a  chair 

"Be  seated,  sir,"  she  said,   primly,  as  she 
took    v  ehau-  near  him  and  folded    he    plul 

I::  no^  "'^\'T"' "« ^^'•- ^'--1'''  ■■« 

you  not .?  Yes,  I  ti,oug|,t  «„.  I  „eve..  i„id 
eyes  on  y  before,-but  my  p„o  hunb  yond  r" 
nodding  her  head  towards  the  eurtai.fed  areh- 
way,  "has spoken  of  you  so  often  (hat  I  knot 
you  ,vthout  un  introduction.     I  a,„  Mrs.  Bur 

wTti,!""^  !'^P'■"f«^^i°"•    I've  been  living 
with  my    lamb   f,,r  the    last   two  yeai«,  eve! 

'hanjoiare/    ""'''""•"""■»' '^""ol- 

.  "May  Inotsee  her?"  i^k,  d tlie young  felW 
impatient  y,  be  omir '•  ,mo  ■,,.,1  '"S 'eiiow 
by  the  delf;.  ■'         '  "♦      '"'^  ""^"'^d 

"All  in  good  time,  sir,"  was  t!. ;  gentlo  re 
«ponse.    "  I  suppose  you  hav    -.ea-    „fmy,;o„; 
lady's  misfortunes  ?  "  ^  ^ 

"■i^es,"  lie  replied,  mechani..aUy. 


JtfflS.  CBBSTSR.  257 

"  Tlie  most  misjudged  i„„ocei,t,  sir,  tlmt  ever 
..eathed,  and  all  along  of  that  scamp  of  a  brouL 
ot   hera.     You  remeiiibor  Dick  ?    I  pronl.esied 
whenhe.,^a,.aU,i„armstl.ahewL!;c     ' 

I,ild  I  r    .       r   *""   *'"^  "■"^'  tro«blcson.c 

c  "Id  I  ever  dosed  with  Mrs.  Wii.slow's  sootl- 

'|8;y.«p,  and  wullced  the  floor  with  till  mid- 

".o  ths,  and  l„s  n,„   ,er  so  ill  and  little  Miss 
Nelhe  scarcely  able   to  toddle."     Mrs.  Burto 
seemed  to  be  overwhehned  by  this  su.lde    flood 
of  .cnnn.scence.    She  paused  and  gasped  for 
breath,  then  added  humbly:  I'™  wr 

"Begging  pardon,  sir,  you'll  not  I«  interested 

aie,  .s  .  But  I  will  say  that  Master  Dick  had  a 
bad  disposition  from  the  time  be  weighed  tL 
pou  Is  a„d  had  the  jaundice.  Butthetll': 
»»  ehatte,l,ox  when  I  get  started.  My  poor 
^.mb  doc.Vt  seem  to  miud  how  „,y  ,^„'gu" 
wags ;  she  says  it  amuses  her."  ^ 

"How  was  Dick  mixed  up  with  his    ^ 'or', 
recent   troubes?"    a.skpd     n;™.!  i  .., 

wearily.  ^    Dimsdale    a   trifl.. 

"  Haven't  you  hear,.,  sir  ?    But  no,  of  course 
you  wouldn't  h.ar,  for  my  ,amb  didn't'  ^ Lh  it  o 

ought  to  bo  told,  so  that  the  ono  !n  the  wronc 
should  get  the  blam     and  the  one  ;„  the  right 


hi 


J\ 


258  sAmrs.  siy^sns  anu  «w^„  ^^^^^^ 
M  get  the  credit  of  it!    It  w.,  thi»   ,va^, 

hor^Tl^'"'^  ""'  "'1°  t'""''le.  .stole  ,no„ov 
fiom  a  biink  an.I  .,.(1  to  leave  the  countrv     7^7 

>"gUwl,enthedeteetive«  vveio,f(,',r   ^'         ' 

."i^guised  to.ee  his  »i.ste:a:u';.tr;;: 
rd:"'"v;;^rv""-"^'""-"'''«-^^ 

man  »u_„,aybe  you  re.nen.hei-  him '-susnenl 
SI.,  vvthout  waiting  to  discover  the  truth    3' 

wouMha^XwL'lnS.^y:,;"';-'' 

i-«e,  and  serve  ,..  ri,ht;t;Si::::: 

::?:fr'^"^^'>--<'Din.sduie. 

seen  stce     T^   "''''  ""''""^  '"'«  '«'''^'-  "»«" 
rh?«f  T  "■'  '"""  '*"<'''  "  P»ni«  over  Mr 

Ches ters  eo„d,t  o„,  being  taken  so  ala™  ngy 
,  "  ■»"  01  'i  su'lilen  and  the  noise  nf  tl,„    ■  V , 
Bhot«  having  startled  the  houet  hat  t       "' 
scamp  easily  escaped  notice     '1^1,   '7;""! 
fellow,  and  sharp  in  his  way.    Ah   welt  h^  1 
comet^judgmentsomedayiAedoesn;  I'L' 


rit 


Mlis.  CllEHTEti. 


259 


He  lias  Ungl.t  a  sight  of  trouble  upon  his  poor 
sister  who  tried  to  help  liim." 
^  "  Why  WHS  tlie  matter  never  expUiued  T"  ho 
inquired  excitedly,  "  why  has  she  been  allowed 
to  remain  under  this  heavy  cloud  of  suspicion 
when  a  clear  statement  of  facts  would  iiave  vin- 
dicated  her?" 

"  Well,  sir  you  see  lie  was  her  only  brother 
and  she  loved  him  in  si>ite  of  all  his  wickedness, 
and  she  hated  to  tell  on  him.     I've  an  idea  that 
she  knows  now  where  he  is,  but  he  could  be 
taken  ,f  any  one  found  out,  and  she  couldn't 
bear  to  have  him  sent  to  prison.     The  papers 
got  hold  of  the  other  story,  and  all  my  poor 
lambs    friends    turned    against    her.     I  doubt 
If  they  would  have  done  it,  sir,  if  she  hadn't  lost 
Iier  money  at  the  same  time,  for  there's  plenty 
of  them  no  better  than  they  take  her  to  be.     But 
Its  a  cruel  world,  a  bad  cold,  cruel  world,  that's 
what  it  IS." 

Dimsdale  started  to  his  feet  exclaiming  with 
intense  emotion,  which  he  could  no  longer  re- 
strain,  ° 

"  Oh,  let  me  go  to  her  at  once ;  why  do  you 
keep  me  sitting  here  ?  What  good  can  talking 
do  her  Mypoordavling!  What  she  must  have 
suffered  ! " 

"  Hush !  "  said  Dame  Burton  soothingly.  "  I 
will  take  you  to  her  when  she  wakes.     She  has 


if 


M 


J, 


< . 


2Co  SAINTS,  smNEits  AND  Qtf:^En  pmpm 

been  sleeping  sweetly  in  the  next  room.  She 
was  in  need  of  it  for  her  cough  keeps  her  awake 
at  nights." 

«  I'll  take  lier  away  from  here.  We  will  start 
tins  week  if  she  is  able  to  get  ready  so  soon," 
continued  the  young  man  in  a  rapid,  buoyant 
manner,  as  he  sank  back  into  his  chair.  "You 
shall  come  too ;  you  liave  been  her  friend.  I 
.  thank  you  for  it  with  all  my  heart.  You  shall 
never  want  f9r  anything." 

To  his  dismay,  he  observed  that  instead  of 
sharing  his  sanguine  anticipations  the  old  ladv 
seemed  to  be  completely  overcome  by  an  em<; 
tion  tliat  was  the  reverse  of  joyous.     Her  head 
dropped  in  her  hands,  and  the  tears  which  come 
slowly    and    painfully  to    the    aged,   trickled 
through  her  fingei-s. 
^^It's   too   late   now,  sir,"  she  said,  at  last. 
I  thought  you   knew  that  my  poor   lamb  is 
dynig  of  consumption.      Everything  has  been 
done,  but  it's  no  use.    She  can't  last  much 
longer.      The  doctor  says  she  may  linger  till 
spring,  but  it's  more  tlian  probable  that  she  will 
go  before  the  month  is  out." 

Dimsdale  stared  at  the  tearful  woman  in  a 
dazed,  uncomprehending  way.  Surely  she  was 
exaggerating  the  seriousness  of  the  ca^^e.  "  Nellie 
was  not  dying?  She  must  not  die.  Money  and 
skill  could  do  great  things."    A  slight  cough 


vl 


Mas.  criESTtjU. 


2G1 


broke  the  silence.  He  was  on  his  feet  imme- 
diately and  had  taken  a  rapid  step  toward  the 
adjoining  apartment,  when  the  nurse  laid  a 
restraining  hand  upon  liis  shoulder. 

"  Wait,"  she  said  authoritatively  under  lier 
breath.  "  She  is  too  weak  to  be  startled.  I'll 
go  in  first  and  gradually  break  the  news  to  her 
that  you  are  here."  She  parted  the  curtains  and 
disappeared. 

He  heard  her  speak  soothingly  in  a  low  tone 
as  a  mother  speaks  to  a  sick  child. 

"Have  you  slept  well,  my  lamb?  Ah, 
that's  good.  Your  pretty  eyes  are  as  bright  as 
stars.  What  if  Santa  Clans  should  bring  you  a 
fine  Chris Lmas  present?  What  would  you  like 
best  of  all,  my  pet  ? " 

"  If  I  had  my  choice,  I  should  ask  to  see  Jack 
once  more.  I've  been  thinking  of  him  all  day. 
But  he  is  far  away,  I  shall  never  see  him  again," 
she  said,  as  she  sighed  we.arily. 

"  Don't  be  too  sure,  my  sweet,"  chuckled  the 
old  dame,  "  strange  things  happen  at  Christmas 
time.  Supposing  Grandma  were  to  bring  him 
to  yon  now,  would  you  talk  quietly  and  not  get 
excited  so  as  to  bring  on  a  spell  of  cough- 
ing ?  " 

A  long  drawn  exclamation  of  surprise  and  de- 
light from  the  invalid  brought  Dimsdale  a  few 
paces   nearer.      Another    instant  and  he   was 


i  I 


.;i 


t 


S62    SAllMTS,  mifEliS  Am  QUEER  PEOPtS. 

Closely  within  lua  own,  and  endeavoiine  to  con 
t^l  the  pent-up  feeling,  which  sui-gel  wi  ,1 

S  e  ;  J  wTTm '"T"'"" '«"''-™^^ l«t>vee 
*re  uT„!f";'  "^f  •  '''"■"'"  ^^"^  conspicuously 

treated  to  the  farthest  end  of  the  room. 

lou  don't  look  so  very  ill,"  he  said,  reeard 
'ng  her  critically,  and  realizing  that  it  3)1 
duty  to  conform  to  the  orthodL  sXZ  1 
portment  and  affect  a  decree  of  r.1,^   t? 
"Youhave  a  bright,  p,t:^:;J,rS^- 

"1"  ""V:r^'^  ""^  °f  -.  ''oesn't  sh^ 
nnrse .'  But  his  heart  sank  a,  ho  noted  the 
extreme  emaciation  of  the  f,«=e  and  figu.e  wh£ 

coir '""'  '--'^'''  *-  ">«^-  -S 

The  large  brown  eyes  were  unnaturally  la,™ 
m  contmt  with  the  wan,  pinched  cheeks     Z 
blue-ve  ned  brow  was  too  delicately  v.ie'  the 
sweet  V  a  trifle  worn  and  sad,  and  [oo  so,',! 
outlined  by  the  surrounding  trace,  of  suffeS 
0  suggest  Health.     She  woie  a  dainty,  flo       f 
™be  of  soft,  creamy  fabric,  which  felHrom    hf 
slender  throat  in  billows  of  lace,  an  old  fa^.! 
jed,  exquisite  relic  of  bygone  prosperit,, t^ 
of  a  time  when  M,^.  Chester,  exercising  a  ,  etty 

piide  in  the  replenishment  of  her  wardrobe. 


Mrs.  CHESTER.  263 

"  You  have  changed  so  much,"  she  said,  after 
watcliing  liim  intently. 

"For  the  woi-se   or  the  better?"  he  asked 
gayly,  with  an  affectionate  pressure  of  lierliand. 

"  Decidedly  for  the  better,"  she  returned  Avith 
a  smile,  and  speaking  with  the  simple  frankness 
of  a  child  who  is  not  afraid  of  being  misunder- 
stood.    "You   are  bigger  and   handsomer.     It 
is  such  a  satisfaction  to  see  you  again,  dear  Jack. 
-  You   don't   know  how  happy  I  am.     I  have 
been  lonely  for  such  a  long  time.     Often  I  have 
thouglit  while  lying  here  that  it  would  be  so 
pleasant  to  see  you  and  have  a  long  talk  of  the 
old  days.     I  don't  know  why,  but  I  have  always 
felt  sure  of  your  friendship  even  when  those 
whom  I  trusted  the  most  have  failed  me." 

She  paused  in  an  effort  to  regain  composure. 
Dimsdale  could  not  speak,  he  felt  as  if  he  were 
stifling. 

"Lately  I  have  been  living  altogether  in  tlie 
past,"  she  continued,  more  calmly,  "  recalling 
the  time  when  I  was  a  merry  school-girl  and  you 
trudged  along  by  my  side,  carrying  my  books. 
Such  a  tall,  thin  boy,  you  were,  and  you  always 
had  apples  and  tafty  in  your  pockets."  She 
laughed  feebly  and  her  eyes  met  his  through  a 
mist  of  tears. 

He  quickly  interposed  with  his  fictitious  cheer^ 
fulness : — 


S 


!  i 


i  ^ir 


204  fiAi.yT.%  simms  ANn  QVum  people. 

"  Those   were  happy  days,  Nellie.    I  shall 

or'.r.ri.';'';''-""-."!.." 

He  bent  h>s  head  lower  and  looked  into  her 
face  wth  an  expression  of  infinite  yearni"!  .„d 

my's^ake  ?"!'e'"T»'™"S  »"<!  well,  dearest,  for 

years  a,o,  Neft     I  wTd  ^r"""!"'"'^" 

a  touch  of  reproach  in  his  vll"  ~"""  "" 

Her  breath  fluttered  a  little  and  l,e  could  feel 

erett';:?;'''"^'';'"^-  «-'-^-'-J^e^ 

"ere  tent  full  upon  him  in  perfect  candor  and 
a  W  surprise  glowed  in  their  depths 

'••.nd  I    •'/""      "T  ""'^'"  ''^'ef'ned  cheerily, 

m  .tried  Z  T  T"^  *"  S'''  "'''"'  ^^«  «'-"  »« 

We  w       dn  "f"  "''"**  "'"  •""•=*'"■«  «ay, 

'  W.11  do  more  for  you  than  medicines. 


'ill 
I  i'  m 


MPS.  CnESTER. 


265 


What  nonsense  to  talk  of  dying,  you  liave  never 
really  lived.'  He  laughed  in  his  conseiousness 
of  strength  and  power.     Hope  was  stvong  witliin 

"Dear  Jack,  do  not  deceive  yourself,"  said 
Mrs.  Chester  with  streaming  eyes.  "  I  shall 
never  be  well.  For  months  I  have  longed  to 
die-there  seemed  to  be  nothing  to  hold  me 
to  earth.  But  now  "-her  voice  faltered  pite- 
ously-"  oh,  I  could  wish,  I  could  pray  to  live 
now  for  your  sake,  if  it  were  possible."  She 
reached  up  one  thin  little  hand  and  stroked  his 
lace  with  a  lingering,  loving  touch. 

"It  shall  be  possible,"   he  said,  confidently. 

Listen,  sweetheart.     I  know  a  doctor,  a  ve.y 

famous  doctor,  in  New  York,  who  has  cured  more 

than  one  case  of  consumption.     I  shall  wire  him 

to-night. 

She  shook  her  head  with  a  sad  smile. 

"  I  didn't  know  you  cared  for  me  like  that," 
she  said  softly.     «  Poor  Jack  !  " 

Her  voice  was  husky  and  presently  she  had  a 
severe  fit  of  coughing  which  left  her  weak  and 
gasping  for  breath. 

"  No  more  talk,  darling,  it  tires  you,"  he  said, 
bending  over  her  with  a  lover's  solicitude. 
"Lie  titill  and  think  ot  the  future." 

"H[is  Grandma  to.il  you  about  Dick?"  she 
asked  almost  in  a  ^i':usper. 


iMik. 


I!  I 


266    SAIXTS.  smifSRS  ANt,  qVBEn  PEOPLE. 
He  nodded. 
"And  about  all  that  dreadful  time  '" 

yoursein.y  te  I.ng  „,e,"  he  returned  soothingly 
"Henceforth  it  shall  be  the  effort  of  my  mt 
make  you  forgot  that  you  were  ever  ZilZ^' 
She  watehed  him  with  restlea,,  ea"e  eves 
and  he  saw  that  it  would  be  a  rel  ef  to  heT  t^ 
unburden  her  mind  to  one  who  eould  l!  'ten 

P.-    entT     1,  """"-*-"'"■?    and    sympttj 
P.esently.  w,tl.  frequent  pauses  for  breath  she 

V.U,  relatmg  the  bitter  experiences  of  the  pS 
ho  yeaj.   ,„,,„,,,  difl„^„,^  sentences.  wS 

she**b!i"5^^  t'"'ve  struggle  against  misfortune 
she  had  endeavored  to  earn  a  living  bv  teach 
2  »'»fe  and  painting,  but  without  su^et 
When  ,,,e  ^ent   to  the   houses  of  her  arist„ 

and  humbly  asOng  for  pupils,  the  doom  were 
rudej^slammed  in  her  face,  and  some  stinr! 
taunt  flung  at  her  to  increase  her  wretchedife  s 

Her  warmest  friends,  many  of  whom  had 
been  secretly  jealous  of  her,  seemed  to  derive  a 
malignant  satisfaction  from  her  downfanlnd 
tossed  their  haughty  heads  in  sco  n  a  'th  J 
passed  her  on  the  street.  ^ 

"I  don't  know  what  I  should  have  done  if  it 


nil 


MRS.  CHESTER. 


267 


u 


hadn't  been  for  Grandma,"  she  concluded  with 
an  affectionate  glance  at  the  old  lady  wlio  sat 
near  tlie  couch  waiting  for  an  opportunity  to 
take  part  in  the  convei-sation. 

"  Wlien  I  read  about  tliat  sliooting  case  in  the 
Globe,''  said  the  kind-hearied  dame,  fumbling 
suspiciously  with  Iior  spectacles,  "I  said  to 
Maria,  my  sister,  where  I  was  staying  at  the 
time,  says  I,  'My  lamb's  in  trouble  and  I'm 
a-going  to  lier.  I  helped  get  her  into  this  world 
and  I'jn  going  to  help  her  through  it  somehow.' 
Maiia  said  I  was  a  fool  to  travel  hundreds  of 
miles  for  the  sake  of  a  woman  who  was  no  kin 
to  me  and  maybe  wouldn't  caie  to  see  me  when 
1  got  there. 

"But  all  the  same  I  catne,  and  it  turned 
out  that  I  was  needed  badly  enougli.  It's 
little  that  I  can  do,  but  I'm  glad  to  do  it. 
Her  mother  and  fatiier  were  good  to  me  in  their 
lifetime  and  I'll  not  s-ee  their  child  left  friend- 
less and  destitute  if  I  can  help  it ;  and,  God  be 
praised  I  am  able  to  do  a  good  day's  work  yet, 
though  I  am  past  seventy.. 

"  My  precious  lamb  with  all  her  cleverness 
and  high-toned  accomplishments,  couldn't  earn 
an  honest  penny.  The  rich  ones,  who  were  only 
too  glad  to  associate  with  her  in  her  prosi^erity, 
turned  their  backs  on  her  and  snubbed  her. 
They  seemed   to   take  pleasure    in    believing 


;      i 


!* 

»  ^f;. 


268  SAiyrs.  «/.v.vCT«  and  grrmn  peopim. 
everj-thing   that  was    said   against    hor     But 
2  ,"  ""  '"'"■«'"«-'  old  bod/ ike  me 

.rtiitst^  ire.::r  :t"""'  -:  - 

Uimsdale  gave  a  sl,o.t,  scornful  lauffl,      Tl,,- 
so-called   conscientious    scruples   of  a    ccrh 
lass  of  socjety,  whose  code  of^noralit;  aff    d 
an  ".teresfug  study  in   the  intricacies  of  cU 
seek.„g  „,„fo,e,  expediency,  and  outside   co 
formuy  to  popular  views  of  right  and  wro,^ 
'"'I?  "■^'^'^y^  vastly  amusing  to  him.  *" 

Nurse  Burton  laughed  too  in  an  ironical  wtv 
a.    she  added:    "I  tell  my  lamb  tha   Ttl   ^ 
"long  of  my  being  old  and  ugly.     It  i.^  •/  '  ' 
anybod/s  while  to  try  and'i^  ure    n^  L;:  "' 

The  young  man's  heart  throbbed  painfully  as 

vaW,  whose  every  glance  and  motion  revealed 
he   sweet  patience  of  her  spirit.    HerTo't 

mo^,  hs-the  monotony  and  blank  hopelessnes! 
of  a  hfe  shut  out  from  all  touch  of  kinship  with 
the  happy  world,  from  the  vivifying  i„fl  ,en  el 
of  congenial  companionship  and  refined  a^ 
c.a, on  represented  a  condition  of  cxistret 
which  It  was  beyond  his  power  to  realise.    He 


MR8.  CfTESTER. 


269 


could  not  meet  it  even  in  thouglit,  but  instinc- 
tively retreated  from  it  as  from  some  unknown 
horror. 

"  She  never  had  lady  callers,"  continued  the 
garrulous  nurse,  "none  but  an  evangelist  woman 
who  prayed  and  read  the  Bible,  as  if  my  lamb 
wasn't  as  good  as  the  best  of  them.  I  wish  I 
had  cauglit  her  at  it.  I'd  have  given  her  a  piece 
of  my  mind !  Two  kind  gentlemen  used  to 
drop  in  of  an  aftei-noon.  Tliey  were  leal  pleas- 
ant, and  thouglit  no  harm  of  my  young  mis- 
tress. Tiiey  promised  to  bring  their  wives,  but 
they  didn't  do  it  after  all ;  then  I  guess  they  felt 
embarrassed  because  they  couldn't  keep  their 
word,  for  they  stopped  coming. 

"Some  fine  gentlemen  of  the  aristocracy  used 
to  come  too  in  the  evenings.  But  my  lady 
would  never  see  them,  and  she  sent  back  tlieir 
baskets  of  roses  and  lovely  nosegays.  It  seemed 
a  pity  for  her  to  be  so  proud  and  independent 
with  them,  they  had  elegant  mannei-s,  such  as  she 
wasaccustomedto,  and  they  might  have  made 
life  pleasanter  for  her." 

A  hot  flush  overspread  Mrs.  Chester's  delicate 
face  and  her  chest  rose  and  fell  tumultuously 
beneath  her  loose  robe. 

Dimsdale  muttered  an  inaudible  invective 
and  bit  his  lips  savagely.  He  knew  tlie  kind 
of  gentlemen,  and  felt  a  passionate  revulsion 


V  I 

ill 


270    SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  qUELR  PEOPLE. 

against    all   humanity.      The   evangelist,  who 
Btrengthened  hei-self  in  goilliness  by  a  few  for- 
mal  seasons  of  prayer  with  a  stricken  woman ; 
the  kind,  charitable,  elderly  men,  who  were  gen- 
uinely sorry,  but  failed  to  influence  their  wives 
in  lier  favor  and  soon  abandoned  their  benevo- 
lent purposes;  the  aristocratic  gentlemen,  who 
sent  gifts  and  came  by  night,  cherishing  what 
was  to  thenij  a  pleiusant  belief  in  her  guilt ;  the 
fashionable  women,  who  drew  aside  their  skirts 
and  slannned  their  doors,  many  of  them  knowing 
full  well  that  their  own  lives  would  not  bear  in- 
spection ;— how  he  detested  and  despised  them  all. 
Those  who  were  not  consciously  malicious  and 
hypocritical,  ;?!r,ked  the  moral  coui age   which 
alone  could  ;;..-.  bone  and  fibre  to  their  chari- 
table convictioiKi.     They  weie  all  living  illustra- 
tions of  the  wuiM's  instability  and  fickleness,  and 
as  such  he  despised  them ;  reflecting  upon  the 
credulity  of  the  masses  to  believe  a  wrong  which 
would  bring  into  agreeable  contrast  their  own 
professed  virtues. 

There  was  a  sharp  ring  at  the  door-bell  fol- 
lowed by  a  sudden  rush  of  cold  air  into  the  cosy 
room,  as  Mrs.  Burton  answered  thesunmions. 
"  A  lad  to  see  you,  sir,"  she  said. 
Dimsdale  stepped  into  the  hall  and  saw  a 
newsboy  standing  on  the  threshold,  who  handed 
hira  a  sealed  envelope. 


MRS.  CHhSTER. 


271 


He  carried  llie  letter  to  tlie  window  and  read 
in  his  moLlier'a  delicate  handwriting : — 

*'  Have  you  forgotten  that  we  are  giving  a  re- 
ception in  your  lionor  this  evening  and  that  it 
will  ho  awkward  to  account  for  y«  m-  ahisence  ? 
Already  several  of  your  old  friend.^  ing  just 

heard  of  your  arrival,  have  drop}  ii  to  see 

you,  and  I  am  at  a  loss  to  know  '  iiat  to  say. 
In  this  instance  I  wish  to  H\nu<t  myself  the 
humiliation  of  telling  the  truth,  but  1  am  not 
clever  ;  inventing  excuses.  Do  not  chill  our 
joy  at  .\<>ur  home-coming  by  a  stubborn  defi- 
ance of  my  wishes.     Come  at  once  and  oblige, 

"  Your  Mother." 

.  The  young  man  lield  the  message  before  him 
a  moment  in  silent  contemplation.  It  was  char- 
acteristic of  the  woman  in  its  tone  of  selfishness, 
conventional  it}',  and  evident  determination  to 
ignore  Mrs.  Chester  except  by  tlie  insinuation 
of  an  insult.  Not  a  word  of  courtesy  or  good- 
will for  this  unfortunate  young  creature,  who,  if 
the  worst  said  of  her  had  been  true,  had  been 
sufficiently  punished  for  Ihm  sin. 

Yet  it  was  Christmas  day,  and  from  the 
vaulted  choirs  of  holy  sanctuaries  erected  for 
the  worship  of  the  all-loving,  all-merciful  God, 
glad  anthems  had  pealed  forth  upon  the  crisp 
morning  air  heralding  "  Peace  on  earth,  good- 
will to  men."     And  the  people,  Mrs.  Diinsdale 


n; 


Si 
I  I" 


f{ 


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272     SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

among  them,  had  listened  and   assented  with 
reverently  bowed  heads,  and  an  uplifted   con-   • 
scousness  of  piety,  and  then  had  gone  away  as 
those  who  have  no  understanding. 

Dimsdale   took  a  paper-pad  from  his  pocket 
and  wrote  hurriedly  in  pencil  : 

"  Dear  Mother ; 

as  von\T"^  t""  "Pf  ^>^«"»-pl^"«'  but  I  cannot  do 
as  you  ask.  I  am  trying  to  make  a  happy  Christ- 
mas for  one  who  needs  it,  and  J  sffi  no  ^ 
home  till  quite  late.  Make  whatever  excused 
you  may  think  proper.  excuses 

"  Jack." 

He  sealed  this  note  and  gave  it  to  the  boy, 
who  touched  his  cap  respectfully  and  vanished. 

As  he  re-entered  the  room,  Mrs.  Chester  looked 
at  him  appealingly. 

"  You  are  not  going  to  leave  me  ?  »  she  said. 
No      he  replied.     "  I  shall  stay  as  loner  a^ 
you  and  nurse  will  permit.     I  am  at  your  service     ' 
tor  the  remainder  of  the  day." 

Mrs.  Burton's  face  took  on  an  expression  of 
momentary  disquiet,  and  her  eyes  turned  ap- 
prehensively  towards  the  sideboard. 

"  We  don't  keep  Christmas  here  as  you  do  in 
your  fine  home,"  she  said,  "  but  we  will  be  glad 
to  have  you  stay  and  sliare  our  frugal  supi^er." 
Dimsdale   murmured  a  polite  repl^  and  fell 


MRS.  CHESTER.  273 

into  rapid  thought.     Christmas,  and  ]io  Christ- 
mas dinner !     For  himself  he  did  not  care,  he 
had  the  excellent  normal    appetite  which  can 
subsist  on  plain  diet,  and,  moreover,  lie  was  at 
present  lifted  to  such  a  soul-satisfying  emotional 
altitude  that  the  mere  physical  act  of  eating  was 
of  little  moment.    But  there  is  sometiiing  im- 
perative  in  the  law  of  association,  and  Christ- 
mas  without  the  usual  complement  of  a  well- 
spread  table  seemed  essentially  incomplete. 

Suddenly  he  bethought  himself  of  a  restau- 
rant in  the  city  which  was  always  open  for  the 
benefit  of  the  homeless,  and  where  meals  could  ' 
be  procured  upon  short  notice.     He  would  ffo 
out  and  telephone.    Nellie  must  have  her  Christ- 
mas dinner.     Making  some  excuse  about  having 
Dusiness  to  do  which  would  not  occupy  more 
than  a  few  minutes,  he  hastily  withdrew. 
Nuree  followed  him  into  the  hall. 
"  Don't  wire  that  doctor  you  mentioned,  sir  " 
she  said  in  a  low  voice.    "It's  no  use,  believe 
me.     I  wouldn't  say  it  if  I  didn't  know." 

His  countenance  fell,  but  he  was  persistently 
hopeful.  "^ 

"  My  good  woman,"  he  replied,  « '  while  there 
IS  life  there  is  hope.'  I  cannot  give  her  up. 
You  must  let  me  do  all  that  is  possible." 

His  errand  was  quickly  performed,  and  he 
was  back  almost  immediately. 


i 


:  I 


274    SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

He  looked  radiant  as  he  re-entered  the  room 
and  resumed  his  seat  near  the  coucli.  The  wind 
had  blowii  his  fair  liair  over  his  fovehead,  and  he 
brushed  it  back  in  careless  fasliion.  There  was 
a  dash  of  color  in  his  cheeks,  and  a  cheerful  in- 
fluence seemed  to  radiate  from  his  manly  fi£ru,e 
so  broad  of  chest  and  slmulders,  and  from  his 
evident  consciousness  of  power. 

'^Well,  I  have  given  you  over  into  the  hands 
of  the  famous  pill  and  medicine  man,"  he  said 
sm.ling.     «^e  will  send  some  remedies  by  mail 
inimediately,  and  the  day   after  to-.norrow  he 
will  leave  New  York  for  Toronto." 
Mrs.  Chester  gave  him  a  wan  smile. 
"  Thank  you,  Jack,"  she  said,  with  a  tender 
quiver  in  her  voice,  her  eyes  full  of  wistful  grati- 
tude.     But  she  had  the  air  of  indulging  a  caorice 
born  of  delusion  because  the  outspoken  truth 
would  be  too  cruel,  and  the  yo^-      man,  intently 
watching  her  every  movemen;  ,    i  shade  of  ex- 
pression, divined  with  quick  app  ehension  that 
she  did  not  share  his  sanguine  convictions,  and 
his  enthusiasm  received  a  slight  chill. 

The  gray  winter  twilight  steadily  advanced. 
Mrs.  Burton  lighted  a  lamp,  and  put  more  coals 
upon  the  fire ;  then,  as  she  began  to  set  the  table 
for  the  evening  meal,  a  great  hamper  of  provis- 
ions was  brought  to  the  door,  which,  when  un- 
loaded  exhaled  pleasing  odors  of  roast  turkey  and 


MRS.      TIESTEn. 


275 


Steaming  plum-pudding.  Tliere  Avere  also 
creams,  jellies,  and  meringues~a  veritable  feast 
of  good  tilings. 

"Bless  my  lieart!  Is  the  man  crazy?"  ex- 
claimed the  nurse,  with  an  astonished  look  at 
Dimsdale,  but  slie  nevertheless  carried  the  par- 
cels to  the  kitchen-table  with  unusual  alacrity 
and  went  about  the  preparations  with  increased 
enei'gy  and  cheerfulnesc:- 

"  My  poor  lamb  can't  ea  ,  anything,"  she  said, 
pausing  in  one  of  hev  tiips  to  the  sideboard, 
"  more's  the  pity  with  such  tempting  victuals  in 
sight."  . 

"No?  I  am  sorry  for  that,"  returned  Dims- 
dale, busying  himself  witli  tlie  knotted  cord  of 
a  pf^steboard  box,  "  but  I  have  something  here 
which  is  generally  acceptable  to  sick  people." 
He  raised  tlie  lid  and  disclosed  a  mass  of  freshly 
cut  roses,  crimson,  yellow,  and  white,  reposing 
upon  a  bed  of  moss.  Lifting  a  long-stemmed 
cluster  he  laid  it  against  the  invalid's  clieek. 

Mrs.  Cliester's  quick  exclamation  of  delight 
went  through  him  like  a  dart  of  pain.  It  told 
him  more  plainly  than  anytliing  else  could  liave 
done,  the  barrenness  and  sacrifices  of  her  altered 
circumstances,  the  unsatisfied  longings,  and  little 
grinding  economies. 

The  Mrs.  Chester  of  former  days  would  have 
received  a  simple  gift  of  flowers  with  the  smil- 


^ 


^J 


4=  'I 


276  .umr,,  Simons  ANB  ^vi^m  PMOPm 

inggraciousness  of  a  sociotv  ,„„.., 

to  such  elegancies     ^f  ^'"'""«»  "ccustonied 

been   delically  rescfec    77'"'  """'''  ''"^^ 
polite.  ^  "seuecl,  „nd    conventionally 

aOm   alio      ^sirir'^"'""  *»  ''"l"  ^n^ts  o 
One  large  L.  fell  IlT"  ?' '"«  ''^•'^'-  *'-"• 
upon  tlte  Z%!^Zal:'tT\'t''''' 
Dimsdale  was  intensely  I'd  t  a,.?  ™'i 
her  pleasure.  ^   ''®  P*"'»«  of 

"  I  love  them  so,"  she  laM     <>  i* 
of.you  to  think  of'riel  "one  d iTt^Tf 
pamt  a  spray  like  this  from  memorv     tM,  *! 
small  picture  on  the  easel  •  ZT^'      V'  """ 
finish  it.    I  ffot  ve, tT  V       ^  ^°"  '^'''  ^  '"''"'t 

didn't  look  ou  t^nt      f  """r^'"^  "'  "'  "'"l  it 
luuK  quite  natural,  so  T  o-nvo  ,-4. 

B-theyrnrottifTaslr,/- 

honor  to  the  occ-ision  ]>!/  •  *""  '"''»  ''"' 
of  finery  in  th  shT"  Z  T'"^  ""  "'^''"^ '^'«'"' 
hows.  They  t  h  dd  I.  T  "'^  "'"'  P"'k 
festive  spirfts  and  d  *  .'■  ''''*  *"  "''I-^"  ■" 
ing  dinner      '  ^°  J"'""*  *°  *">«  Wetiz- 


MRS.  CIIERTEIi.  211 

But  it  Avas  a  pitiful  farce  so  far  as  Dimsdale 
was  c.  .ceined.  The  gon-^  nurse  Avas  more 
successful  ill  disguising  lier  anxiety  iu  recrard  to 
the  patient,  probably  reflecting  with  tlie^'praeti- 
cal  philosophy  of  an  old  person,  tliat  it  is 
folly  to  become  so  absorbed  in  an  emotion  as 
to  lose  tlie  advantages  of  a  Christmas  dinner, 
winch  comes,  at  best,  but  once  a  year.  An  an- 
ticipated sorrow  can  always  wait,  losing  none  of 
Its  poignancy  in  intervals  of  forgetfulness,  but 
a  hot  meal  grows  cold  and  is  Avasted. 

Mi-s.  Chester  lay  back  among  lier  cushions 
wrapped  in  a  delicious  languor,  some  of  the 
vivid  crimson  roses  nestling  in  the  lace  upon 
her  throat  and  breast.  Her  eyes  were  half-closed 
and  her  breath,  as  it  came  tlirougli  her  parted 
lips,  lightly  stirred  the  dainty  lingerie.  The 
pretty  hectic  flush  had  died  out  of  her  face  wliich 
was  now  marble-like  in  its  pallpr.  Slie  smiled 
dreamily  Avlien  Dimsdale  bent  over  her  in  a 
fresh  access  of  anxiety. 

"Do  you  feel  any  worse,  dearest?"  he  asked. 
"No,"    she    replied,  in    a    whisper,    "only 
tired." 

With  a  keen  sense  of  reaction  from  hope  to 
utter  discouragement  he  sat  doAvn  beside  her ; 
and,  taking  her  hand,  pressed  his  finger  upon 
her  pulse.  How  feeble  and  intermittent  it  was  I 
Once  it  seemed  to  him  that  it  stopped  altogether, 


;! 


m 


I! 


278    SAINTS,  SINNeHS  AND  QtytlEn  PEOPlH 

But  she  ,v,«  only  dozing  and  presently  roused 

to  con,.lete  cou»eiou.sness  of  her  sunouudir. 

Jack  could  you  cany  n,e  to  the  window'" 

she  asked  faintly.     "I  s|,oul,,  like  fo  look  out 

on  the  sky  and  snow-covered  earth  once  more  " 

Very  tenderly  he  lifted  her  in  his  a,,ns,  and 
could  have  cned  aloud  as  he  did  so.    So  little  did 

a  met'^;".  /''■"'^"''  """  ^'"^  ""«'"  '-v«  '-een 
a  mere  cliild. 

nilrw'r'/'"^  ^r^"^  ""'""  ""^  Christmas 
mglt   which  was  beautiful  with  the  gleaming 

crystal   of    .ce  and  fleecy  draperies  It  snow 

Overhead,  m  a  clear  sky,  shone  the  pale  moon 

pouring  forth  her silverglorynpon  housetop ,urd 

avement.  A  party  of  young  gids,  with  gen- 
tlemen escorts,  passed  down  the  street.  They 
Ave.-e  laughing  and  talking  merrily,  and  their 
vojces  jarred  rudely  upon  the  silence. 

He  looked  down  upon  the  face  resting  on  his 
s^  u  der  a,,d  marvelled  at  its  calm,   fpi,,tual 

,w; !  f  ■  J^T  ''•'"  ^""'^"""g  i"  I'er  expression 
winch  awed  him  and  kept  his  ardent  passion  in  . 
check.     Almost  insensibly  during  the  h«t  few 

them,  making  his  love  more  remote  and  reverent; 
and  this  vague  sense  of  enforced  distance  was 
positive  torture,  the  harder  to  endure  becaus^ 


A% 


Mas.  iyimsT^n. 


m 


lie  could  not  explain  it,  nor  beat  it  away  with 
his  human  logic.  He  longed  to  clasp  her  close 
in  a  tempest  of  yearning  love  and  rebellion 
against  impending  fate. 

In  the  mutual  sunender  of  their  meeting 
hearts  he  had  realized  the  dream  of  his  life, 
and  with  the  sweetness  of  their  first  kiss  still 
upon  his  lips,  this  intangible  presence  inter- 
vened like  a  barrier  and  commanded  him  to 
be  silent.  "  What  did  it  mean  ?  Could  it  be 
possible  that  she  was  indeed  going  from  him 
into  the  far-off  immensity  of  the  unknown?" 
A  sharp  pang  seized  him.  He  pressed  her  closer 
to  him,  awkwardly  conscious  of  his  rugged 
health  and  sensuous  temperament,  and  their 
contrast  to  her  ethereal  personality. 

She  was  speaking,  and  he  bent  his  head  to 
catch  the  faint,  fluttering  whisper. 

"  Jack,  I  want  to  talk  to  you.  It  will  be  the 
last  time.  Put  your  ear  clc  )•  to  my  lips, 
Grandma  need  not  hear.  Dear  Jack,  I  caii't 
live  to  be  yoiir  wife.  For  a  few  minutes  after 
you  came,  I  fought  against  it,  against  going 
away  and  leaving  you.  I  had  visions  of  possible 
happiness  in  the  gay  world  we  both  know  so 
well,  but  it  can  never  be  and  I  am  resigned." 
She  fell  into  a  short  silence,  breathing  with  dif- 
ficulty. 

"Don't  cry,  Jack.     There  is  nothing  terrible 


i 


•I 

1!   i; 


,;1!  i 


m    .1AtlfT.'<,  .S7.V.VCT.S  AN,,  QVKEn  PEOpU 

in  deati,      The  sei.aiation  f ,„,„  love.l  ones  makes 
all  Its  bitterness,  and  even  tliat  sting  is  taken 
ti-om  me,  because  my  love,  like  my  so„l,  will 
live   forever.    I  know  I  shall  always  think  of 
you   and  care  for  you.     I  p,»y  God  that  my 
spirit  may  sometimes  be  permitted  to  hover  near 
you  aiKl  eommune  of  the  things  invisible.    I 
have  been  drifting  away  for  a  long  time,  farther 
and  farther  away,  but  I  a„,  not  nfmid.     It  is  all 
strange  and  bewildering.    I  ean't  see  where  I 
am  going  but  some  unseen  foree  is  upholding 
me  and  I  have  no  dread  of  the  future."    There 
waa  another  pause  and  brief  struggle  for  breath, 
then  she  continued :    • 

"  My  life  l.asn't  been  very  happy  or  success- 
lul.     I  seem   to  have   lost  my   way   on   some 
crooked  path,  wliile  wandering  in  the  dark.     Mv 
marriage  was  a  mistake  and  trouble  came  of  it 
but  I  haven't  sinned  as  people  said  I  did." 

"  Those  slanderous  vipers  have  murdered  vou  » 
he  broke  foi-th  passionately.  ' 

"  No,  not  tliat.  It  was  hard  at  fii^t,  and  as  I 
lost  hope  and  ambition,  my  hold  on  life  was 
weakened.  There  seemed  to  be  nothing  worth 
caring  for.  But  the  disease  would  l,ave  over- 
taken  me  m  any  case,  perhaps  not  so  quickly  if 
I  had  struggled  against  it."  For  several  n",in. 
utes  she  lay  so  pale  and  still  that  the  warmth  of 
her  body  seemed  to  be  the  only  evidence  that 


kits.  tHItlHtEtl 


2si 


» 


the  spiiit  had  not  already  taken  flight.      But 
presently  she  sjwke  again, 

"I  wonder  what  kind  of  a  place  it  is,"  she 
said  musingly,  "the  place  to  which  I  am 
drifting?  I  try  to  think  about  it,  but  I 
can't.  I  think  there  will  be  joy  there,  and 
peace." 

"  Yes,  my  darling,"  assented  Dimsdale  huskily, 
— joy  and  peace." 

"  And  Divine  pity,  and— and— justice,"  the 
weak  voice  continued  with  faltering  emphasis 
on  the  last  Avord. 

"  Yes,  Nellie,  that  perfect  justice  which  is 

denied  us  on  earth." 

"I  want  you  to  do  a  few  things  for  me.  Jack, 

after  I  am  gone.     This  key  lianging  round  my 

neck  belongs  to  the  drawer  of  my  writing-table. 

When  you  open  it  you  will  find  a  letter  to  Dick. 

I  haven't  been  able  to  post  it  myself,  and  I  dared 
not  trust  any  one.  It  is  addressed  to  an  assumed 
name,  but  someone  might  suspect.  I  can  eon- 
fide  i!    V  ou,  you  will  never  betray " 

^  "  No,  never,  my  darling.     I'll  send  the  letter. 
I'll  try  to  see  him  and  help  him." 

"  I  couldn't  give  him  up  to  the  law;  no  one 
must  discover  where  he  is.  Man's  law  is  so 
cruel,  so  short-sighted,  it  sees  nothing  beyond 
the  crime  itself.  I  leave  him  in  God's  hands. 
He  understands  everything  and  will  not  judge 


III: 


m 


282    /lAINT,.  mNBns  Am,  WEBn  PBOPls. 

poor  Dick  too  h«ml,l.v.    A„.l,  Jack,  U,  good  to 
limii'J.ua,  for  my  sake."  *" 

oW,  but  steadily  advanced  till  it  pervaded  il,l 
wl.0  0  „.„,„  and  .oftly  enfolded  th  „:  .  L^ 
in   Its   embrace.      Mis     Tiii,fo»  ^^"P'"its 

q-ely,  ,v  .i^e  Din.sdalc,  in  .,.e  stnti  r  f 
tens  ty  and  s«,,e.„at«ral  stillness  of  Lis  bein 

"  Is   there   notliincr    elsn   ,«.,    ~,-  i     . 
dearest  1>     lV„ti  •        *  ^   "   "'^''    '"  say. 

Clearest  ?    No  Inng  you  would  like  me  to  do  ?  " 

-She  roused  he-self  fron,  the  stupor  into  which 

the  fa-off,  unseeing  ga.e  of  one  who  looks  from 

sciiiity  ot  space. 

"Nothing  more  except  to  remember  me  al- 

ejes  sti  1  fixed  blindly  upon  him  she  murmured 
almost  inaudibly,  in  the  voice  of  a  drowsy"  id 
whose  senses  are  partially  dulled  by  sleep!- 

TTiank  y„„  so  much,  dear  Jack,  for  a    laDny 
Christmas,  a  happy  day-beautiful  roses  "'^^^ 
A  gray  shadow  was  creeping  over  her  face 
olowly,  rnexorably,  dimming'  the  lines  of  7*; 


MliS.  (HESTER. 


283 


sweet  lips.     IIo  laid  I,is  Land  caressingly  upon 
Jier  forehead,  it  was  cool  and  damp. 

An  undefined  fear  took  possession  of  l.im. 
The  nurse  came  forward,  beckoning  dundjly 
toward  the  coucli.  Mechanically  he  obeyed, 
like  a  man  walking  in  iiis  sleep.  Why  was  she' 
heavier  now  ?  One  of  the  roses  fell  from  lier 
breast.     It  was  wilted. 

*  *  *  *  ♦ 

It  was  long  past  midnight.  The  dazzling 
light  from  the  spangled  gasoliers  of  t.io  diaw- 
jng-room  flared  above  a  scene  of  dreary  splendor 
The  guests  had  departed,  the  younger  members 
ot  the  family  had  retired,  and  Mrs.  Dimsdale 
was  alone. 

The  room  was  in  that  state  of  unpicturesque 
confusion  which  follows  an  evening  of  social 
gayety.  Packs  of  cards  were  lying  loose  upon 
marble-topped  and  ebony  tables,  sheet  music 
was  scattered  upon  the  piano,  and  the  dancing 
room  across  the  hall,  in  its  absolute  nakedness 
of  furniture,  looked  especially  forloin  and  de- 
serted. 

The  hostess,  in  cap  slightly  askew  and  silk 
dress  clinging  limply  to  her  drooping  figure, 
presented  an  aspect  in  ke^^ping  with  her  sur- 
roundings, yet  it  was  very  evident  that  her 
worn  appearance  and  dejection  of  spirits  were 
more  the  result  of  mental  disturbance  thivn  o| 


XI 


•     I- 


'  '31 


■       % 


.     I 


284     SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE: 

physical   weariness.     She  paced  the  floor  rest- 
lessly, impatiently,  pausing  from  time  to  time 
to    listen   for   sounds    upon    the    street.     Her 
stern   mouth    had   the    pinched    look    of    one 
who  suffers.     Her  thoughts  were  bitter.     Jack 
was  her  first-born^  her  pride  ;  his  filial  devotion 
had  been  her  greatest  comfort;  yet,  to-day  for 
the  first  time,  his  will  had  risen  up  against  her, 
he  had  questioned  her  wisdom,  defied  her  com- 
mands, set  her  ruthlessly  to  one  side  and  taken 
his  own  course'. 

"  What  had  she  done,"  she  asked  herself, 
"  to  justify  this  treatment  ?  "  Only  what  many 
other  estimable  and  anxious  mothers  are  con- 
stantly doing  from  a  conscientious  sense  of 
duty.  She  had  schemed  and  plotted  for  his  good, 
as  she  supposed,  to  prevent  the  possibility  of 
an  unde^iirable  connection,  and  this  was  her 
thanks.  He  turned  his  back  on  her,  and  walked 
in  the  way  she  disapproved. 

The  door  opened  quietly  and  the  subject  of 
her  agitated  thoughts  stood  before  her.  As  the 
hall  light  fell  full  upon  him,  it  brought  into 
startling  effect  the  gray  pallor  of  his  face.  It 
was  haggard  and  seamed  as  with  age  and  sorrow 
—all  the  glad  youth  stricken  from  it. 

Mrs.  Dimsdale  drew  her  figure  to  its  extreme 
height,  and  confronted  him,  erect  and  reproach- 
ful. • 


MBS.  CHESTER. 


285 


"  So  you  have  come  at  last?  "  she  said,  with 
scornful  dignity.  "  Am  I  nothing  to  you,  are 
3'our  sisters  nothing,  that  you  should  leave  us 
on  tliis  day  of  all  others — leave  us  for  that 
woman — that " 

"  Silence  I  "  he  commanded  sternly,  and  there 
was  that  in  his  voice  which  made  her  tremble. 
"  She  is  dead." 

For  a  moment  Mrs.  Dimsdale  was  staggered, 
and  unconsciously  relaxed  the  austerity  of  her 
attitude. 

"  What  cL  .  she  die  of  ?  "  she  asked  weakly, 
her  indignation  wavering,  her  liaughty  pride  and 
will  temporarily  subdued  by  the  shock. 

He  looked  at  her  steadily  for  several  minutes 
before  replying,  holding  her  spellbound  with 
the  intensity  of  his  gaze,  which  seemed  to  pene- 
trate her  inmost  being;  laying  bare  all  her  world- 
liness  of  motive,  and  the  petty  trivialities  for 
which  her  soul  had  striven. 

She  met  his  look  bravely  at  first,  with  some- 
thing of  defiance  in  her  compressed  lips  and  cold 
gray  eyes,  clinging  tenaciously  to  a  long  cher- 
ished belief  in  her  own  infallibility  of  judgment, 
and  nobility  of  purpose.  "  He  should  not  put 
lier  out  of  countenance — her,  his  mother,  who 
had  mastered  many  of  the  hard  problems  of 
life  before  he  was  born." 

A  struggle  as  of  silent  combat  passed  between 


tw 


,   ijiJ: 


I   I" 


:  ir 


M 


286    SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

them.  He  was  scourging  her  in  his  thoughts, 
reproving,  condemning.  She  knew  it,  but  she 
Avould  not  yield,  would  not  even  admit  the  jus- 
tice of  his  estimate. 

But  in  spite  of  herself  she  was  breaking  down 
beneath  that  concentrated sciutiny.  The  false 
props  were  tumbling  beneatli  her.  She  began 
to  grow  restless,  her  eyelids  quivered  and 
drooped  as  her  glance  shifted  uneasily. 

Dimsdale  drew  a  long  breath  as  he  said 
slowly :  ' 

"She  died  of  a  lingering  disease,  brought  on, 
I  think,  by  woman's  inhumanity  to  woman." 

Mrs.  Dimsdale  stood  motionless  an  instant, 
bewildered  by  conflicting  emotions.  All  the 
plausible  excuses  she  had  been  considering  in 
self-defence  seemed  to  elude  her  troubled  con- 
sciousness. She  looked  at  him  helplessly,  then 
turned  back  into  the  disordered  room,  shiver- 
ing as  if  with  the  cold. 


THE  MATRIMONIAL   CONFIDENCE 

CLUB. 


r. 


you 


"Emily,  what  is  the  matter  with 
asked  Mrs.  Lane  from  her  coiicli  as  she  ""raised 
her  head  with  its  chistering  silver  curls  and 
snowy  cap  and  turned  it  inquiringly  in  the  di- 
rection of  her  daughter,  who  had  just  stepped  to 
the  window  for  the  fourth  time  in  the  space  of 
five  minutes.  "  You  sit  down,  and  get  up,  and 
stand  still,  and  walk  about,  and  fuss  at  one  thing 
and  another,  till  I  am  nervous  looking  at  you! 
I  wish  you  would  sit  down,  my  dear.  What  is 
it  makes  you  so  fidgety  ?  " 

The  daughter  laughed  musically,  as  she  re- 
plied :     "  I   believe   I   am   more  restless   than 
usual.     But,  don't  you  remember,  mother  ?     It 
is  the  twenty-second  of  December,  and  I  am  ex-  ' 
pecting  the  postman." 

"You  expect  the  postman  every  day,  and 
what  difference  does  it  make  that  it's  the  twenty- 
second  day  of  December?  Be  more  explicit, 
Emily."  ^ 

"I'll  tell  you,  mother  dear,"  returned  Miss 
Lane,  m  sh§  smoothed  the  pillows  and  sat  down 

287 


288    SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QUEfJR  PEOPLE. 

on  the  edge  of  tlie  couch.  "  A  little  more  tlian 
ten  years  ago  I  graduated  from  college.  Tliere 
were  six  others  who  took  honors  at  the  same 
time,  and  that  night " 

"What  night,  Emily?     Don't  talk  so  fast; 
you  bewilder  me." 

"  The  niglit  of  the  twenty-first  of  June,  ten 
yeai-s  and  six  months  ago.  We  were  all  chat- 
ting together  for  the  last  time  under  the  dear 
old  college  roof,  when  we  made  a  solemn  com- 
pact  that  ten  years  and  six  months  from  that 
date,  tliose  of  us  who  were  married  would  write 
long  confidential  letters  to  the  one  or  ones  who 
remained  single,  and  tell  our  experiences  fully 
and  freely,  without  reserve.  We  called  our- 
selves the  Matrimonial  Confidence  Club." 

"Dear  me,  how  foolish  !  And  why  did  you 
saytenyeajs  and  six  months ?~.That's  such  a 
long  time." 

"  Because,  by  that  time— the  winter  follow- 
ing the  tenth  anniversary  of  our  graduation- 
cur  fate,  matrimonial  or  otherwise,  would  be 
definitely,  decided,  don't  you  see,  mother?* 
Those  of  us  who  were  alive  would  either  be 
married  long  enough  to  form  unprejudiced 
views  of  marriage,  or  settled  down  into  hopeless 
old  maids.  We  would  have  found  a  fixed  and  ' 
permanent  niche  in  life." 

"Well,   and    what  about  it?"  asked   Mrs, 


mE  MATRIMONIAL  CONFIDENCE  CLUB.    289 

Lane.     "  What  has  that  got  to  do  with  your 
nclgeting?"  "^ 

"  W]iy,  everything.     I  am  the  only  old  maid, 
and  I  expect  tlie  letters,  unless  they  have  for- 
gotten to   write,  and  I  don't  think  they  haVe 
V7e  wrote  down  the  conditions  of  the   compact 
in  our  journals  so  that  there  should  be  no  mis- 
take.    Yes,  I  was  engaged  at  that  time,  and  the 
others  were  heart  free ;  yet,  strange  to  say,  I 
am  the  only  old  maid." 

Her  voice  took  on  a  dreamy  tone,  her  face 
dropped  into  tlie  palm  of  lier  hand  and  she  fell 
into  a  reverie  from  which  she  was  presently 
aroused  by  a  muirnur  of  disapproval  from  her 
mother. 

"  ^es,  and  it's  all  your  own  fault,  Emily  " 
said  the  old  lady,  pettishly. 

Mrs.  Lane  was  in  an  unusually  talkative  mood. 
When  Emily  had  referred  to  herself  as  an  "  old 
maid  "  she  had  touched  her  mother  in  a  tender 
spot,   and   now   she    diligently   ransacked   her 
memory  for  tlie  names  of  all  the  young  gentle- 
men who,  during  the  past  ten  years,  had  paid 
conspicuous   attention  to   her  daughter.     The 
girl  listened,  witli  smiling  lips  and  an  occasional 
humorous   twinkle  of  the  eyes,  but   made  no 
comments.     She  liad  grown  accustomed  to  hear- 
ing  her  incipient  love  affairs  revived  in  thi^  re- 
proachful way. 


^ 


:f:' 


I'i' 
'I* 


^1 
^1 


■I 


290   SAINTS,  SINNEliS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

By  and  by  as  the  evening  waned,  Mrs.  Lane's 
fund  of  reminiscences  became  exJiuusted  and 
she  lay  back  among  lier  i^illows  breathing 
heavily.  Emily  brought  her  ji  cup  of  gruel  and 
gently  helped  her  up  to  bed.  Then  slie  read 
aloud  till  the  invalid's  eyes  closed  in  slumber. 

It  was  only  seven  o'clock,  and  the  long  winter 
evening  stretched  before  her,  but  she  had  no 
sense  of  loneliness.  The  winter  wind  was  so 
cold  and  bleak  >  that  a  fire  had  been  kindled  in 
the  parlor  grate,  which  threw  its  cheerful,  ruddy 
glow  athwart  the  pretty  room  and  lent  an  air 
of  warmth  and  comfort ;  and,  besides,  there  was 
the  prospect  of  the  postman'.s  arrival  to  brighten 
her  spirits. 

^  She  lighted  the  lamps,  threw  a  lump  of  coal 
upon  the  fire  and,  sinking  into  an  easy  chi^ir, 
sat  for  a  long  time  buried  in  thought.  She 
meant  to  enjoy  herself  this  evening  in  her  own 
quiet  v.'Hy,  but  her  mother's  complaining  words 
persistently  haunted  her,  and,  despite  the  sense 
of  ease  and  comfort  which  pervaded  her  physi- 
cal being;  she  felt  she  was  not  quite  satisfied, 
and  that  it  would  take  very  little  discourage- 
ment to  induce  a  mental  disquietude  bordering 
6n  discontent. 

"The  only  old  maid !  "  slie  repeated  to  herself. 
"How  little  we  thought  on  tliat  menK)rable 
night  that  it  would  fall  to  my  lot  to  receive  thq 


TtlS  MATRiMOmAl  CONFIDENCE  t'Ltrn.   291 

letters  I     I  wonder  if  they  are  happier  than  I  ? 

Well,  I  shall  soon  know." 

Slie  picked  up  a  new  magazine,  with  its  uncut 
pages,  and  reached  for  the  ivory  paper  knife, 
when  tlie  postman's  call  arrested  her  attention. 
The  book  fell  to  the  floor  as  slie  hurried  forward 
She  returned   with    six    bulky    letters.     Miss 
Lane  s  brown  eyes  flashed  with  unwonted  ex- 
cuement,   and  a  bright  color    burned   in   lier 
ciieeks,  as  she  tore  open  one  of  the  square  en- 
velopes  and  unfolded  a  closely-written  letter  of 
ten  pages. 


cc  TIT  „  ^ '  Dec.  21,  189-. 

My  dear  Emily- Wlioever  Avould  have 
thought  you  would  be  the  old  maid  of  our  sel' 
I  hope  you  don't  object  to  the  use  of  the  much 
derided  ep.thet.  I  can  assure  you  that  you  dWt 
eed  to  be  ashamed  of  it,  for  old  maids  are  quL 
t le  rage   nowadays,  and  ever  so  many  c?ever 

npn  Z    '  ^"^  ''"^  promise,  I  take  up  mv 

pen  to  give  you  an  exact  account  of  the  state  of 
mincl  and  circumstances  in  which  I  find  rnvself 
and  also  to  give  you  my  opinions  of  marriXfe 

En^lv    V^^^;?  r^}  "^*  ^"^^  ^*  pleasant  read  ngi 
Emily;   not  that  I  am  unhappy,  oh  dear  no 

aemoialized.     This  sounds  alarmingly  indefinite 
bu    I  shall    ry  to  explain  as  I  go  ori.^  ' 

Such  a  letter  as  this  in  answer  to  such  laro-A 
and  important  questions,   it  has  nevei  before 


P:[\ 


■fWM 

iii 


m 


292   SAINTS,  sinneHs  and  queer  people. 

been  my  pleasure,  or  my  misfortune,  to  be  obliVed 
to  write ;  and,  consequently,  you  must  make  every 
excuse  for  a  rambling,  incoherent  style.  I 
know  what  a  sensible,  old-fashioned  little  mortal 
you  are,  and  no  doubt  I  shall  be  held  in  restraint 
to  some  extent  by  the  fear  of  shocking  you. 
Jor  your  sake  I  should  like  to  make  some  pre- 
tence of  clinging  to  my  girlisli  illusions,  but 
that  would  be  violating  one  of  the  conditions  of 
our  compact,  wliich  was  that  we  should  tell  the 
truth,  the  whoje  truth,  and  nothing  but  the 
truth.  ° 

"  By  the   way,    what   unsophisticated  creat- 
ures we  must  have  been,  to  sujipose  that  after 
ten  years  additional  knowledge  of  the  world  it 
would  be  easy  or  natural  for  us  to  unburden  our 
minds   in  that  renowned,  George  Washington 
tashion.     If  you  were  in  the  whirl  of  society  as 
1  am,  you  would  know  how  difficult  it  is  to  be 
truthful  and  sincere.     I  tell  scores  of  lies  every 
day,  and  I  cnn't  help  it.     I  have   a   headache 
when  I  don  t  wish    to   see  ceitain  persons,  I 
smile  on  others  whom  I  detest;  I  veil  my  real 
motives,  and  affect  sentiments  which  I  do  not 
feel. 

"  In  fact,  I  have  ever  so  many  plausible  ex- 
cuses  and  inventions  which  come  in  conven- 
iently at  certain  times,  but  whicli,  in  plain 
language,  are  nothing  more  or  less  than  lies  ;  lies 
of  various  sizes  and  colors,— little,  big,  wliite 
green  and  black.  But  other  women  do  the 
same,— mine  are  as  nothing  compared  to  the 
whoppers  they  tell. 

"I  think  I  must  have  learned  the  habit  fiom 
John.     He  has  a  peculiar  theory  in  regard  to 


ii 


TtlE  MATIilMdNIAl  C6NFlhi:NCE  CLUB.    29^ 

veiiiciity.  He  insists  that  a  man  cannot  be  a 
success  socially,  politically,  or  any  other  way,  if 
he  sticks  to  the  unvarnished  truth,  and  that  it  is 
one's  duty  to  adjiist  one's  statements  to  suit  tlie 
occasion  and  the  persons  with  whom  one  has  to 
deal.  He  says  tliere  is  no  greater  stumbling- 
block  in  the  way  of  an  ambitious  man,  than  a 
conscientious  regard  for  facts,  and  that  the  se- 
cret of  success  in  life  is  the  knowledge  of  when, 
and  how  much  to  lie. 

"  Perhaps  I  should  not  have  mentioned  John's 
ideas  on  this  subject,  as  it  makes  it  rather 
awkward  for  me  to  tell  you  that  he  is  the  most 
popular  man  in  town,  a  member  of  several  clubs, 
and  a  member  of  Parliament.  Suppers  are  given 
in  his  honor  at  election  times,  firewoiks  shoot 
the  sky  over  our  roof;  the  band  plays,  and 
grand  ladies  present  him  with  buttonhole  bou- 
quets. Yes,  John  is  quite  a  man  of  distinction, 
and  public  applause  agrees  with  his  constitution. 

"  He  has  grown  stout, — not  too  stout,  you 
know,  but  comfortable  and  wholesome-looking. 
His  father,  who  died  a  year  ago,  left  him  quite  a 
little  fortune,  so  we  never  want  for  anything.  I 
suppose  you  know  we  haven't  any  children  ? 

"  I  am  not  sorry  ;  for  with  so  many  social  de- 
mands on  my  time  and  attention,  I  don't  see 
how  I  could  look  after  them,  and  I  never  did 
believe  in  allowing  servants  to  take  full  charge 
of  young  children. 

"I  married  for  love,  Emily,  and  I  didn't  care 
anything  about  financial  prospects.  I  was  will- 
ing to  share  a  crust  with  John,  if  need  be. 

"  I  was  so  simple-heai'ted  in  those  days,  and 
had  such  childish  notions, — it  amuses  me  now  to 


Ii 


,il 


tm 


i 


I  f| 


264  sAtyT.%  stmens  Am  Qirmit  PSoPtg. 

think  of  them     I  put  John  on  a  pedestal  in,I 
hed   liv"^  "l^olutely  perfect,     ft  wa?  an  i  W 

mi^f        1         "'  myself,  I  wiw  filled  with  hn- 
w^  ^t^'ilkfTt  "^"'^  "^-'■"■■worthiness  ad 

Zie^'    Well    ha?  iM   P^'™/"«'  '»  '"ve  hin,. 
jniuicj  .     well,  that  illusion  lasted  until  we  liid 

^M?.Z"lf  r'i'y'' yea.- then  it  fa    d  gmd 

"I  don't  know  just  how  or  why  the  nlnn„» 
begmi,  but  it  was  due  to ' trifles  ligl.t  „s  ai ■■   ^ 

heip;rti!«r:±j-^^^^^ 

that  kind  of  love.  ^     "  dissipate 

"  After  all,  it  is  only  moonshine nv  tI,o  .„.„ 

duct  of  an   idealistie'^imagina  "oi .    I  t  ' I  f 
was  happier  when  I  ceased  to  love  him  ii  thaJ 

ness  which  came  without  effort,and  rLquired  so 
much  less  from  him  in  the  w.^  of  rSl'n'! 

emtlmVt^^  demonstrative,  and  clung  to  our 
custom  of  kissing  e.ach  other  good-bye  in  tl,^ 
mornings  when  John  went  to  his  office  and  re 

dfnne"^  TntT"  ^^'"i"  ,'"t  '"""-''home  To" 
amner.     «ut  after  a  win  e  I  observed  flmf  i.^ 

sometimes  kissed  me  without  seeilg  to  notice 


^ili!  J^AfiiiMONtAt  CONFIDENCE!  CLtrii.    2^5 

wliat  l.e  was  doing,  and  that  often  lie  kissed  nie  a 
second  and  tl.ird  time  without  rememberin^r  that 
he  had  done  so  before  ;  that  irritated  me  ;  I  bemin 
to  dishke  h,8  dutiful  little  pecks,  which  were^  o 
W-er  indicative  of  affection,  or  of  anything 
more  significant  than  force  of  habit.  Now,  he 
never  thinks  of  kissing  me  good-bye,  unless  he 

nff  Jl!^  ^""^  T^^y  ^  ^^",^  ^'''•*^-  ^V''^»  l^e  comes 
into  the  house  I  know  him  by  the  pleasant  thud 
ot  his  number  ten  boot. 

"The  love  we  have  for  each  other  now  is  the 
most   matter-of-fact   possible.      He  spends      s 
everiings  where  he  pleases,  sometimes  at  home, 
but  of tener  elsewhere,  and  I  entertain  my  friends 
or  accept  an  escort  and  go  to  a  concert  or  play.' 
But  John  IS  real  good  to  me  ;  you  mustn't  think 
I  am  finding  fault  with  him. 
^    "  I  look  athim  now  as  he  sits  near  me,  absorbed 
in  a  newspaper,  and  I  can't  help  thinking  what 
a  large,  self-complacent,  good-natured  individual 
ne  is.     He   never  grumbles    about  giving  me 
money,  and  allows  me   to   do  as  I  please,^  and 
that  IS  a  great  recommendation  for  a  husband. 

Jiut,  oh,  Emily,  there  is  an  ache  in  my  heart 
xyhich  I  can  never  explain  nor  describe,  as  I 
linger  oyer  this  letter  in  silent  self-communion 
and  try  to  reca  1  the  sweet,  unselfish  ambitions 
of  my  girlhood.  There  is  a  lack  somewhere! 
and  though  I  am  still  vivacious  as  of  yore,  I  am 
not  always  happy.  I  am  afraid  I  have  grown 
very  worldly,  and  the  constant  rush  of  societv- 
lite  gives  me  a  mental  as  well  as  physical  unrest. 
1  am  quite  thin  and  extremely  nervous.     I  shall 

lor  1  need  a  change. 


.'    '  ; 


290    SAlN'I\s^  f^/NNERS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLK 

"  I  suppose  you  are  as  good  as  ever,  you  dear 
little  moui*«»%  and  go  about  among  tlie  poor  peo- 
ple, and  teai  !  a  Sunday-school  class.  You  were 
always  inclined  to  be  i^ligious  and  benevolei*. 

"  I  have  lost  my  interest  in  these  things,  and 
I  tliink  John  is  partly  to  blame.  I  can't  coax 
him  to  go  to  church,  and  I  don't  like  going 
alone,  lie  went  a  few  times  after  we  were  mar- 
ried, but  fell  asleep  and  snored  so  loudly  ih,\i. 
all  the  people  were  smiling.  Poor,  tired  old 
dear !  After  ithat,  I  thougiit  it  would  do  him 
more  good  to  stay  at  home  and  have  a  nap. 

"  Emily,  darling,  married  life  is  all  right.  Oh 
course,  a  good  deal  depends  on  the  persons 
themselves ;  and  life,  whether  double  or  single, 
is  very  much  what  we  make  it.  But  I  must 
say  that  you  are  to  be  envied  in  some  respects. 
You  are  so  free  and  independent.  You  can 
think  and  act  for  yourself.  You  can  fulfd  all 
your  good  resolutions  about  being  useful  with- 
out having  stumbling-blocks  laid  in  your  way 
by  those  you  love,  and  Avhose  right  it  is  to  dic- 
tate your  course  of  conduct. 

"  13ut  my  letter  is  becoming  philosophical  and 
tiresome.  In  conclusion,  I  congratulate  you, 
dear,  on  being  the  old  maid  of  our  graduation 
circle.  '  What  a  host  of  possibilities  lie  before 
you! 

"  As  for  mo,  I  have  no  future  w- .  'r«,h  speak  rif^ 
about.  Very  few  married!  >vv»nicn  have  any 
future.  I  shall  simply  go  on  in  this  feverish, 
restless  w^ay,  snatching  my  pleasures  from  every 
available  source,  till  some  day  I  drop  from  sheer 
exhaustion. 

"  Good-bye,  Emily.    I  hope  I  have  been  per- 


tllE  MATHIMONIAL  CONFIDEACE  ^LUB.    297 

fectly  trutliful  this  once;  T  luive  tried  to  be. 
Trusting  that  your  mother  is  iti  Ix'tter  liealth 
since  I  hist  hesird  of  her,  and  tliat  I  may  some 
tiuK;  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  vou  in  my  own 
home,  1  am  now  and  ever, 

"Lovingly  yours, 

"Lulu  Kay  (iibson." 

Miss  Lane's  eyes  were  full  of  tears  as  she  re- 
folded  tiiis  letter  and  returned  it  to  its  envelope. 
How  well  she  reuKMiibered  the  writer  as  a  girl, 
—the  s(mtimental,  tender-liearted  Lulu  Ray ; 
generous,  unselfish,  and  ambiti^ms ;  full  of  san- 
guine purposes  and  lofty  ideals ! 

From  the  next  envelope  fell  a  number  of 
closely  written  jiages  of  thin,  foreiy  n  note-paper. 
Miss  Lane  smiled  as  she  remember,  -d  the  special 
gift  which  this  correspondent  possessed,  of  mak- 
ing her  letters  as  vivid  and  inter(3sting  as  a 
novelette,— and  of  narrating  in  m.iny  charm- 
ingly constructed  sentences  what  n'ight  easily 
be  told  in  half  the  space,  though  pe  haps  with 
a  loss  of  the  effect  produced  by  minuL  i  imagery 
upon  an  active  imagination. 

"  Yes,  undoubtedly,  Dolly  Redmon  1  would 
have  her  say  and  it  would  not  be  brie  by  any 
means."  Miss  Lane  settled  herself  m.  .re  com- 
fortably, put  an  extra  cushion  at  her  back,  and 
rested  both  feet  upon  the  hassock,  as  she  gave 
herself  up  to  the  enjoyment  of  the  lettei  which 
was  headed  like  the  title  page  of  a  mam  script. 


•■HI] 


2   I  ;:k-  J 

■■rt 


298    SAINTS,  81NN£:rB  AND  Qt7Et:li  PmPL^. 


"dolly's 


CONFESSION. 

going  to  make 


« Yes,  Emily,  I  am  going  to  make  a  clean 
breast  of  it  this  time  if  I  should  never  utter 
another  truthful  syllable.     I  am  starting  this 
several  days  before  the  memorable  twenty-first 
so  that  I  shall  have  time  to  add  postscripts  as 
they  occur  to  me,  and  make  this  letter  the  most 
complete  exposition  of  a  woman's  views  upon 
matrimony  that  was  ever  written.     There  is  in- 
finite relief  in  speaking  one's  whole  mind  upon  a 
subject,  and  Vv>e  been  bottled  up  so  long,  think- 
mg  all  sorts  of  things  to  myself  which,  as  a  dis- 
creet matron,  I  would  not  think  of  confiding  to 
any  one,  that  a  confession  appeals  to  me  in  a 
very  favorable  light,  as  an  outlet  to  my  morbid 
state  of  mmd  and  possibly,  in  some  sense,  a  tem- 
porary alleviation. 

"In  the  regular  correspondence  which  has 
passed  between  us  since  the  dear  old  college 
days,  I  have  been  careful  to  guard  from  your 
observation  any  secret  dissatisfaction  that  might 
be  gnawing  at  my  heart ;  deeming  it  a  woman's 
duty  to  make  the  best  of  circumstances,  and 
show  a  cheerful  smile  to  our  adversary,  the 
w^orld     But  now  you  shall  see  me  exactly  as  I 
am.    I  shall  delight  in  revealing  my  own  faults 
as  well  as  the  faults  of  others.     Th'is  shall  be  a 
veritable  war-path  of  confession.     I  shall  hew 
down  every  barrier  of  conventionality,  every 
obstacle  presented  by  that  popular  fallacy  called 
womanly  reserve  in  regard  to  con  jugal  infelic- 
ity—jes,   everything    must  'fall   beneath    the 
Bword  of  Truth  wielded  by  the  hand  of  a  tor- 
tured woman. 
"That  sounds  ominous,  doesn't  it?     Don't 


THE  MATRIMONIAL  CONFIDENCE  CLUB.    299 

think  that  I  tun  the  New  Woman  in  a  tan- 
trum. T  can't  abide  that  latest  evohition  of  fem- 
ininity ;  I  am  sure  she  is  ugly  and  wears  boots 
and  gloves  too  large  for  her,  and  talks  Greek 
Avhen  her  husband  wants  to  doze  comfortably 
behind  his  newspaper,  and  condemns  said  hus- 
band in  the  most  merciless  manner  for  all  the 
vices  peculiar  to  his  sex. 

"  I  have  no  patience  with  that  sort  of 
monumental  paragon,  who  is  represented  as 
looking  down  from  a  lofty  height  of  self- 
complacent  purity,  upon  the  great  mass  of 
weak  frailty  called  man  ;  for  whom  she  has 
only  a  curling  lip,  and  a  scornful  Avord,  and  a 
determination  rigid  as  iron,  to  have  nothing  to 
do  with  him,  in  this  world  or  the  next.  Let 
her  lay  aside  her  books,  and  her  magnifying 
glasses,  and  go  to  Sunday-school  like  any  sim- 
ple-hearted little  girl  and  learn  how  to  be  truly 
■womanly  and  merciful. 

"  But  1  am  not  a  preacher,  and  it  doesn't  be- 
come me  to  lay  down  the  law.  I  am  only  a 
woman  of  the  old-fashioned  kind,  with  a  heart 
and  the  very  natural  desire  to  love  and  be  loved  ; 
but  I  am  all  astray  ;  everything  seems  to  have 
gone  wrong,  I  hardly  know  why. 

"The  condition  of  mind  in  which  I  find 
myself  at  this  time  is  utterly  bewildering. 
Bear  with  me,  dear,  while  in  my  rambling 
fashion  I  try  to  explain  the  mystery,  for  my 
own  relief  and  surer  self-knowledge',  and  pos- 
sibly for  your  benefit. 

"  Some  time  ago  you  expressed  the  hope  that 
the  years  that  have  intervened  since  our  school 
intimacy,  had  been  years  of  happiness  for  me, 


-4' 


-m 


if 


i] 


300    SATNrs,  SINNERS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 
and  that  I  had  realized  my  highest  hnr,po     t 

only  eiffhteen-my  character  was  noWormi:;! 

cnaracter.     I  did  not  know  myself  hoAv  rnnU 
I  assume  to  know  whif  nl^n^ur       '  ^low  could 

tiSinTi!    M    ""5  "'••*'  «»  important  reli,. 
tionsmp  It  IS— the  closest,  tenderest  and  m,.«t 

niamty.     But  hoiv^  rashly  people  enter  into 

m;;vT&rtte7hS'rB"rS;l-t' 

and  my  wedding  dress  of  the  latest  cut  «nd 
finish,  and  my  pleasure,  in  the  thought  of  tal 

child,  Uiessw'e'fZfrj^zX  I;:,: 

wisdom  teeth  and   was  f™w»%^    "",'■  l'^"" 
what  she  was  dofng-^      ^'^■'^^''  "'^  '''""'^"'g 

a  senseless  disp  ay  !     The  young  waiiors  not 
knowmg  what  is  before  them  RveeJnZU? 
the  battle-field  in  a  triumphaTp^oLS  t^^^^^ 


THE  MATRIMONIAL  CONFIDENCE  CLUB.    301 

joyous  strain  of  the  wedding  march,  and  thev 
don  t  discover  that  tliere's  death  in  the  air  till 
they  are  mortally  wounded. 

"  If  ever  a  mrl  should  shrink  from  empty 
show  and  trivorous  babble,  and  enter  into  si- 
lence and  sohtude,  if  ever  she  should  retire  for 
a  space  for  self-examination  and  prayer  and 
deep  heart-searching,  surely,  it  is  on  this  most 
sacred  occasion. 

T  "  ^\l  T""-?  ^""'"'^  through  it  again-not  that 
1  tvouldao  It  again,  for  I  certainly  wouldn't— 
1  mean  if  I  were  going  through  it  the  first  time, 
knowing  all  that  I  do  now,  the  event  would  be 
celebrated  with  fitting  solemnities.  It  would 
partake^more  of  the  nature  of  a  religious  cov- 
enant, the  burial  of  self,  like  the  takfng  of  the 
black  veil  in  a  convent. 

"  Perhaps  if  marriage  began  in  that  way, 
some  good  might  come  of  it.  It  is  the  un- 
reasonably sanguine  anticipation  of  a  blissful 
existence  which  never  comes,  that  dulls  one's 
''^Ssible  moderate  happiness  as  is 

"  But  I  must  stop  generalizing  and  come  back 
to  my  own  particular  case  which,  when  the 
worst  IS  said,  is  not  so  bad  as  it  might  be 

I  liked  Tom  immensely.  He  came  to  see 
me  rigged  out  m  his  best  clothes  and  manners, 
and  made  himself  extremely  agreeable,  as  men 
do  wJien  they  are  trying  to  win  the  girl  of 
their  fancy.  My  mother  objected  strongly  to 
our  marriage,  urging  that  I  was,  '  too  yoiing,' 
and,  of  course,  that  liastened  the  match! 

,  Ihere  is  nothing  like  active  op])osition  to 
bring  about  an  undesirable  event.    It  is  a  pity 


i;l 


her  best  to  catch  Un'fr  *""  ""''  '""ing 
incentive  to  the  a  lia,  [""  ^if'f  r*?  another 
valry  was  exciting;  Csvmni^H.  ''"^-La-d  ri- 
angmented,  and  J  mfenff '^  -I ''""  ?^<""  '^^ 
tions  for  love  antrmv  •^  ^f*'""^''  <»no. 
winning  him  fil.an/to^SV/  tl"""?"^  '" 
happiness  ,v]rich  is su,>pS  to  Sln'^ ^'°'''- ''^ 
of  elective  afBnities  »<>  wllow  a  union 

m;po"f^oY"rfoSl^ ''?  ^ ''''gf"  foreaIi.e 
time  to  a  man  who  t  hi  ^  ''''*''  '"^''  fof  all 
and  free  froraVanvnA?^''-^"''^""  his  way 
a  wife's  pea™,  wa7not  cnn  ™?^Thieh  destroy 
We  had  not  one  iiUertr.'F'"'*'  "  ^".^  ^'^^■ 
resses  wearied  me'  hk  if  """"non.    His  ca- 
straint.    His  oninionf  fT^"""  "  """scions  re- 
insistent,  aggreK  mnn^?"  "^^P-^^^ed  •«  the 
roused  iiJy  af[:|onfs,r  "'''"  ^"^""^  '»  W™. 

my  girIh^tand %!Jr^™her'  '^f ^^  "^ 
ness  when  I  rememberw?  H     i    ^  "'"'"  '^leli- 

fatherand  motl  erbrS'",,  ^'".^  ^^"J'  «' 
a  night  I  sobbed  in vSff?"''  *'^'<"^-  Many 
to  &  cheXtS  0^.1  *•'•  ^"'  I  t"«d 
strange,  new  resnonsiWIit  ''P'*'"-''*'^  *«   'he 

tried  to  accustoi/ZS  to  tt  f  ^  ''"^'^'«"' 
services  required  hv  n  „.  ,  ®  """y  «'fe  y 
more  and  Tore  paii^f^i,,"?  ''''°'''  ^"""^  g^ew 

jng  indifferen^e^o  him^ffirm"e-  ^^^l^"^- 
terror.     Whither  w„  J  T  it!-    "o®  ""n  vague 

fulfilling  mJfolTmrmLtSXsf  "^  ^''^  ' 


THE  MATRIMONIAL  CONFIDENCE  CLUli.   303 

"  Oh  Emily,  I  can  never  tell  you  all  that  I 
suffered  in  tlie  fi,;st  few  years.  "l  felt  mvself 
to  be  a  false    sinful  girl,  because  I  could  not 
give   my  husband  the  love  that  should  have 
been  his,  because  I  could  stand  aside  and  criti- 
cise him  as  impartially  as  if  he  were  not  a  part 
ot  myselt     I  used  to  scourge  myself  with  the 
stinging  lash  of  self-reproach,  But  all  to  no 
Jiurpose ;  love  will  not  be  forced-it  is  beyond 
the  control  of  the  will.     The  most  I  could  do 
was  to  give  him  the  semblance  of  wifely  devo- 
tion, to  show  a  kindly  regard  for  his  comfort. 
an(l  a  cheerful  submission  to  his  Avishes 

I  was  wretched  in  those  days.  I  seemed  to 
be  thrown  back  upon  myself,  dependent  upon 
the  inner  resources  of  my  nature  for  happiness. 

When  my  baby  girl  came  to  me,  one  fair 
May  morning,  I  welcomed  her  into  my  solitary 
heart  as  an  aiigel  sent  from  Heaven  to  lead 
Zth  To  ^on<>tony  of  my  life,  into  a 

"Alter  that,  existence  was  not  only  endur- 
able, but  agreeable.  I  ceased  lashing  myself 
for  conaitions  that  could  not  be  helped,  and 
which  were  not  due  to  any  wilful  fault  on 
my  part,  and  resolved  to  extract  as  much 
pleasure  out  of  the  world  as  possible  I 
emerged  from  rny  shell  and  expand  ^d,  as  it 
were.  My  social  wings  sprouted  little  by  little, 
till^i  soon  became  a  society  butterfly. 

"  I  flirted,  too,  in  a  decorous  manneVallowable 
in  select  circles,  or,  to  bo  more  strictly  correct 
the  gentlemen  Avere  conspicuously  attentive 
and  I  permitted  their  attentions.    '  That  Avas 
very  unwise,'  you  will  say.    I  agree  with  you, 


W.:^:' 


304    SAINTS,  SINNEUS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

but  it  is  very  bard  not  to  avail  one's  self  of 
the  compensations  offered  bv  circumstances 

f  i^n  """"i  «  ^^  ^^""^  ^  enjoyed  these  gallant  atten- 
tions and  fla  tery  ;  they  amused  me  for  the  time 
and  brought  to  light  many  masculine  weak- 
nesses that  were  mtcrcsting  from  a  psych oJom- 
cal  point  ot  view.  But  at  test  they  were  onfv 
a  cheap  worthless  imitation  of  the  genuine 
luxury  which  my  heart  craved  all  these  years 
and  craved  in  vain.  ^        ' 

"That  did  not  last  long ;  it  was  one  of  my 
restless  eyolhtions,  another  way  of  turning 
round  and  rouml  in  my  cage,  and  I  weariecl 
ot  it.  Mj  dormant  self-respect  gradually 
awakened    and   I   realized  that  I  was  acting 

for  my^'fdl    -^  '"'  '  """^-^  *^^  ^'"^^'^^^  ^^^««^ 

1  ""^  ^m  living  now  on  a  higher  plain,  having 
learned  the  great  lesson  that  duty  to  my.^elf 
and  those  around  me  is  an  obligation  which 
must  be  fulfilled  at  whatever  cost  to  my  natural 
self-indulgence,  and  that  I  can  only  ^e  truly 
iiappy  when  living  in  accordance  with  the  best 
approved  standards  of  what  is  right,  proper 
and  womanly,  ^    '  ^'""l'*^'' 

"I  have  learned  also  to  make  the  best  of  ad- 
verse circuinstances,  and  my  eyes  are  open  to 
many  blessings  which  have  dwelt  with  me  for 
many  years  unperceived.  I  find  it  easier  to 
adapt  myself  to  Tom's  limitations  and  pecu- 

"  Why  should  I  inwardly  rage  because  he 
persists  in  talking  about  different  breeds  of 
horseflesh  at  a  time  when  I  am  revellino-  in 
some  loft^  thought  extracted  from  BrowniTig's 


n 


THE  MATRIMONIAL  CONFIDENCE  CLUB.    305 

poems?    Can  he  be  other  than  himself?    Ami 
not  as  msufflcient  to  him  as  he  to  me  ?    If  I  pre 
sume  to  pity  myself  as  '  poor  Dolly '  ouo-llt  I 
T^n? '''  ^"^    sy^npathize  with  him  as   ^poor 

''He  irritates  me  in  a  hundred  little  ways 
Irom  the  use  of  musk  and  hair-oil,  to  the 
smoking  ot  vile  cigars  when  I've  a  sick  headache 
and  singing  comic  songs  out  of  tune.  We 
wound  each  other  constantly,  and  yet,  strange 
to  say,  I  doubt  if  we  coukl'be  happy  apaft 
After  marriage,  whether  it  works  for  good  or 
HI,  there  IS  no  such  thing  as  freedom. —Is^ever 
again,  under  any  condition s.-It  generates  a 
bond  which  may  not  be  one  of  tenderness,  but 

il^^  IS  just  as  inevitably  binding. 
Marriage  is  a  gigantic  machine  which,  when 
set  in  motion,  bears  everything  before  it ;  with 

«ll^'r"'i^^'^  "^"^^^"^  of irons,itrushes 
on  and  on,  breaking  barriers,  crashing  ao-ainst 
sensibilities,  till  finally  it  re'aches  su1,,Sn 
Where  there  is  spiritual  antagonism,  there  is 
generally  as  a  counteracting  element  a  subtle 
attraction,  vyhich  for  want  of  a  better  name,  I 
may  call  animal  magnetism. 

nflT^'^T?'"''®-''^*^^  ^P®  sometimes  nullifies  the 
other  This  is  not  the  complete  marriage,  it 
IS  a  legalized  form  of  slavery,  yet  such  is  its 
noSnvi^T  f.r.?*^ble  organizations,  that  I  am 
positive  that  If  the  prison  doors  were  opened 
wide  to-morrow,  and  hundreds  of  tortured  men 

vrVprr""  ''^^'^  1^^^^'^^^  ^f  tbe  uncongenial 
yoke  and  commanded  to  go  free,  they  woSld,  in 
nine  cases  out  of  ten,  remain  where  they  Ire^ 
preferring  the  evil  that  they  know,  to  joys  and 


fl 


806    SAINTS,  SINNEIiS  AM)  qUEER  PEOriE. 

ills  they  know  not;  for  their  condition  has 
engendered  a  pitiable  helplessness 
h«"i«Y  {;"«^^»il. is  considered  very  handsome; 
he  IS  tall  and  fair,  ladies  admire  'his  physimie 
and  he  knows  lt-^vhat  man  does  not\  lie  s 
a  noted  sport  and  atlilete  and  has  won  enouoh 
medals  to  stock  a    '-owelry  store.     He  has'^a 

h.s  cib  hty  m  this  respect,     lii^  has  t  le  },abit 

mtelhgently  as  much  as  to  say,  'trust  me  to 
make    a    good    speculation.'    lie    is    a    very 

Sfrfl^lnf"^'''  Tom,  but  ai;  men  are  that^ 
lie  is  full  of  money-making  schemes. 

My  reading  for  this  month  is  Youatt,  'On 
the  Horse,'  ancT  an  article  which  treats  of  Wall 
street  transactions.  I  am  determined  that  mv 
husband  and  I  shall  have  at  least  one  or  two 
subjects  ot  mutual  interest  on  which  to  converse 
Jl^mily  why  don't  you  marry  ?  It  is  riskv 
of  course,  but  single  life  is  lonely.  Don't  S 
to  people  who  say  '  never  marry  '  < 

"  If  you  should  ever  know  What  it  is  to  love 
you  cannot  refuse  to  marry  the  obiect  of  thnt 
ove  w  thout  beinguntrue  t^o  your  wCanhood 
and  believe  me,  my  dear  friend,  the  possibihty 
of  such^happmess  as  is  offered  by  a  perfect  union 
of  congenial  souls,  is  not  to  be  ightly  sacrificed 
to  any  question  of  duty  or  expedieV  My  into 
tion-would  that  I  could  say  my  exper¥nce  - 
tells  me  that  such  love  is  a  divine  iLtiEphed 

fetetofr^ 

friend  ""win'f^r'i^  '^?f  V'''^^  ^^'^^  ^^^  ^^"stant 
iriend.    What  I  should  have  done  all  these 


to 


THE  MATRIMONIAL  CONFIDENCE  CLUB.    307 

years  Without  your  bright  letters,  I  am  sure 
1  (Ion  t  know.     May  they  never  cease,  is  the 

Z'fo     «  ?  y«""?eft  member  of  the  Matrimc 
nial  Conhdence  Club. 

"  Dolly  Redmond. 

.  e\f'  ^r    -F^"^  ^^^^^^  reminds  me  of  the  month 
like  a^mb  ""'''""'  '"^  "^''  ""  ^^^^  '''''^  ^""'^  ^"* 

The  third  letter  was  from  a  girl  who  had 
cherished  advanced  ideas  on  the  subjects  of 
woman's  rights  and  education,  and  had  also 
given  evidence  of  literary  proclivities. 

Miss  Lane  opened  it  with  a  little  sigh  of 
relief,  feeling  sure  that  it  would  afford  a  deeper 
insight  into  married  life  from  an  intellectual 
point  of  view  than  any  of  the  others.  Olive 
had  married  well  in  the  world's  opinion.  Her 
husband  was  rich  and  cultured  and  noted  for 
his  general  uprightness  of  character. 


G- 


-,  Dec.  21st. 


My  Dear  EMiLY-Oan  it  be  possible  that 
we  SIX  giddy  girls  hav  .  taken  to  ourselves  a 
Husband  and  you,  the  wisest  and  noblest  of  us 
deserY^-  ?      ^^^^^^^^^g  your  sweetness  on  the 

"However  did  it  happen?  I  thought  at  one 
time  that  it  was  quite  decided  you  were 
to  be  Mrs.  Parker,  and  rumors  of  other  matri- 
monial  prospects  in  store  for  you  have  reached 
me  at  long  intervals  during  the  years  that  we 


!.^ 


I  .-,; 


H 


808  SAINTS,  simms  and  Qumn  pkoplh 

business  aS  St'  kJ^^  ^«  4^'^^'^^^^  ^^'^^Ji 

,,     "f'^c^u  or  our  aclrvible  vnnnm  c-f      ixr 
don't  pretend  in    nlimK  /0"ng<^st.     VVe 

heights':  sucTasVaUemS  r^.r*'""^' 
romantic  days.  '"■"■empted  m  our  young, 

hasn't  a  parLTof  ^ovetoustls'L^d  hf ".  T** 
are  inexpensive.  He  doesn't  r-Lf  *'!''^' 
and  always  fiTovr«Tf,Tii„;  ?  ®  *°'"  societv 


THE  MATH JMONIAL  CONFIDENCE  CLVli.   300 


he  praised  my  stories  most  liivishlv,  ho  ropli-  s 
that,  'a  fellow  Avill  endure  aiiN  tliinfr  froiu  ^ 
pretty  girl,  especially  if  he  is  in 'love  with  her, 
but  after  lie  marries  her  the  case  is  entirely 
u  liferent.'  *^ 

"I  don't  know  tliat  I  am  justified  in  savin"- 
that  man  is  an  illogical  being,  l)ut  certainly 
his  nature  is  extremely  variable,  and  it  is  im- 
possible to  Predict  Avith  any  degree  of  cer- 
tainty what  his  opinions  will  be  at  any  stated 
period  upon  Jiny  specified  subject,  lie  is  elus- 
ive and  contradictory,  and  I  am  also  of  the 
opinion  that,  even  m  the  best  of  men,  the 
animal  nature  predominates  over  the  soulful 
aspirations. 

"  As  I  understand  men,  after  nearly  eitrht 
years  matrimonial  experience  with  a  first-class 
specimen,  they  are  three  parts  physical  and  one 
part  spiritual.  ]V[y  husband  is  not  an  epicure 
nor  a  sensualist— Heaven  forbid!  But  I  am 
positive  that  he  prefers  a  good  dinner  to  a  ffood 
sermon,  and  the  frivolous  talk  of  a  gracious 
and  pretty  woman,  to  a  learned  scientific  dis- 
course with  any  male  professor.  He  can't  help 
It,  poor  Charley  !    It's  the  way  he  is  made. 

"  I  have  dropped  ?ny  music  ;'l  never  get  time 
to  practice,  and  I  am  ashamed  to  confess  that 
I  very  seldom  read  anything— even  a  news- 
paper. Charley  doesn't  like  to  see  me  with  a 
book  in  my  hand.  ^  He  says  my  one  great  fault 
IS  that  lam  inclined  to  be  a  book-worm  and 
inform  my  mind  on  subjects  that  women  have 
no  business  to  bother  their  heads  about.  He 
makes  jokes  about  my  going  on  a  lecturing  tour, 
bometiraes  I  am  led  to  exclaim  with  Carlyle : 


ill 


A< 


810    SAms,  «.V.VW»S  A.fO  UUEEU  ,'t:oPLe. 

'Why  do  womon   iiiarrv!'     Hrwi  i.« 

l«.ss  it  l«  that,  like  tl,o  gi<at  \V  t    ..Kh''!?',,""- 

wieirgooU.     -Chis  IS  very  (  scoiinjxnno-      ttJ- 
determined  that  tlio  o-iHcs  n«  /  ^  ^'     ^^^  ^^ 

Lawyer-like   he  flmk   „i  '''ffrent   views, 

opposite  ski  of  ,"t,J  tlor'r'h  '"'^f  "'« 
been  in  favor  of  the  ?.  gfer  e,l„eatiorfnr  ™'''' 

e<  ..cation  that  4ill  flt  it?  pleS    oTn^*" 
andYZ'r;eairtl!S''?f  '''"l^  ^™>'  «''-''. 

acrp  Hi^,,f  f!:i     1  ."'  -'^"^"y*  I  shall  not  encour- 


iin- 


*rnE  MATimtoxrAL  coynuKycE  cluu.  m 

'      nohlo  mwl  7'*^  ""'^l?^"  "?•>'  ^•^^«t^<^"ti(ms  upon  tho 
niotl.orhood,  tl.oro  is  no  lK,ttor  vocation  Avhon 

mat   only  a   small    proixn-t  on   of    m  irri'uro^ 
are  as  successful  as  thVy  ouo-ht  to  l^^'''^''''^''^^' 

a  lottPrr'iM     i^'-'"'Y  ^'■''^^  i'l  any  case  it  is 

as  our  nwi '^  ''' -^'"^  ^^^^""  1^^^«*^»  ^«^"  'til  time 
as  our  life  companion.     A  woman  is  compelled 

m  the  niajority  of  instances,  to  lay  asX  her 

own   distinctive  individuality  and  adopt  the 

m  snort,  to  merge  her  identity  into  Iiis  and 

conform  to  his  standards  of  what  is  ri"ht  or 

'"''^aP'  ^'^P^'^lient  or  desirable.  ^     ^"^ 

J\mv,  I  hold  that  no  woman  can  bo  as  h-  n- 

or  useful  as  when  she  is  entirely  herself  foFlmv 

nfl  r  "^""^  ^^"^^-^^^^^^  eonviciions,  n^^^lbit  on  " 
and  purposes;  and  nothing  fosters  this  ind^' 

IfngteTe:^'  ''^"^'^^  '^^^  -nduct'o'teh  t 

"I  would   not  have  her  selfish   or  eo-otis 
tical ;  ma  world  like  this  there  are  so  manJ 

mtl^^^^^^^^^^^  ^"^    timelnd     ym^ 

patliy  that  there  is  no  excuse  for  idleness  or 
apathy,  or  a  disposition  to  be  selfishly  «^^^^ 
in  our  own  petty  interests.     Whvf  mv    W 

ciiikiren,  there  are  gray  days  n  niv  life  Avhpn 
with  envious  eyes,  tTiroiigh  'the  hazeVf  Vown   ' 

pSsef ''     '"''^  "  ^'""P-^^  "^  '^'  ^^^1  ^"^^^« 

"How  can   any  maiden  of  common   sense 

and  chamcter  be  oblivious  to  her  ackanta'esf 

The  whole  world  lies  before  her  with  its  infinite 


i 


- 


312     SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QUEim  PEOPlK 

possibilities— the    world    of    Mrf     f.;     ^  i  • 
and  benevolence-  even  In vn         '    ^"endsliip, 

the  ?s!;:  izl  ?/iittrc-^^: 

jms  are  held  out  to  l,er.      Ilun.lreds  of  cWI 

children.    I  Ywnklh  f  is'7  fSv ""t .°"'" 
W„  ,„a„y  instances  wh4  S^to  ttVr 

with  household  mattirs'-   ioJ'ln^T^'  ^"^y 
fairlv  ivoll  off  rhnrW  ;i  *'^'^S''  ^«  are 

ut.nce  i^iub.     1  have  done  so  free]  v-  wuu  r« 
lovmo-  wish  for  f  iio  Ko     •      ^' *^V  J '  ^^ ""  many  a 


THE  MAmhtoniAL  conMdence  club,  aig 

you  are  in  very  comfortable  circumstances  fi- 
nancially,  and  that,  if  reverses  come,  you  are 
fully  equipped  for  a  self-supporting,  seif-respect- 
mg  career.    With  warmest  love, 
"  Yours  very  sincerely, 

"Olive   Maxwell  Creighton. 

nr,!i  ?*iF'  1  }  ^^"^^  /?^®^  glancing  over  my  letter, 
and  I  find  to  my  dismay  that  it  sounds  very  un- 
complimentarv  to  Charley.     He  really  is  a  good 
husband,  Emily  and  it  has  not  been  my  inten- 
tion  to  find  fault  with  him  personally.  "^I  have 
been  talking  in  a  general  way,  you  will  under- 
stand,--drawing  my   inferences    rather    more 
from  observation  than  from  experience.    You 
must  not  thiiik  for  a  moment  that  I  am  dissat- 
isfied  wi  h  Charley,  or  that  I  haven't  all  the  re- 
spect and  love  a  wife  ought  to  feel  for  her  hus- 
oand.      btill,  my  advice  to  girls  is ;  don't  marry 
«^^y  man  unless  you  feel  sure  that  you  can't 
possibly  live  without  him.  O.M.  C." 

Miss  Lane  sighed  and  looked  skeptical.  She 
had  always  considered  marriage  a  serious  ques- 
tion, but  she  w^as  not  prepared  for  the  compli- 
cated situations  revealed  in  these  letters.  Pen- 
sively she  opened  another. 


M- 


^  -       —  Dec.  19th,  189—. 

My  Uear  Emily— I  went  the  way  of  the 
teminme  wor  d  three  years  ago, 'and  em'phasized 
my  individuality  by  marriage.  I  was  weary  of 
the  humiliations  and  inconveniences  which 
beset  the  pathway  of  a  maiden  of  uncertain 
age,  which  means,  I  suppose,  that  after  a  e-irl 


V 


314    SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QTIEER  PEOPLE 

has  reached  thirty,  she  is  never  sure  how  old 
she  IS,  and  her  memory  slips  backward. 

it  wasn  t  pleasant  to  be  a  wall-flower  at  balk 

and  sit  patiently  through  a  whole  season  of  sodal 

ff  ^i^^ties,  nor  to  hear  *  buds '  refer  to  me  as  n 

faded  back  number  of  Venus.'    No  woman  is 

so  free  from  vanity  that  she  can  be  resTgned  to 

oTLlta^r  ''  '''^y  '^  lessen^^W  ctS 

for' J'^hn^d  'f^f^'.I  ^I^-^^  becoming  alarmed, 
lor  1  Had  no  desire  to  end  my  davs  Avifh 
my    step-mother,    who  had   a   Lit  deal    of 

tr trlitf  ^""f  ^  f  matSnllfmaf 
ters ,  and  though  my  dear  father,  who  has  been 
ail  ng  for  some  time,  is  still  alive  Lnd  stiwcS 
under  the  marital  yoke,   she  has  select?!  S 
second  husband,  ancf  onty  awaits  the  comL 
tional  opportunity  to  enforce  her  claim      Yon 
can  imagme  with  what  disfavor  she  would  n. 
gard  my  prolonged  maidenhood.  " 

When  Mr.  Thompson  asked  me  to  marrv 
him  I  promptly  agreed  to  do  so,  and  made  [he 
arrangements  for  the  wedding  as  qSlv  as 
c^h^^^^^^^^^^^  '^^  --^^-''  ^-e  Ti^i  t^: 

"He  was  an    elderly   widower,    who   hful 

grave,  and   I,  was  an  elder  y  spinster  wlin 
strange  to  say,  l,ad  never  tastefl  romlni     lU 
proposed  in  a  practical,  dignified  man^^r  ex 
plaining  that  he  needed  a^wife  to  Se  hS 

hZ?^'"'''^""'  """^  'Jol'verhim  from  the  in! 
iquities  of  man's  companionship. 


THE  MATUUIONIAL  CONFIDENCE  CLUB.    315 

"  I  acce])te(l  him  in  a  practical,  dignified 
manner,  explaining  that  I  needed  a  husband  to 
make  a  home  for  me  and  deliver  me  from  the 
tyranny  and  subjection  of  woman.  Upon  this 
understandmg  Ave  married,  and  I  thudi  the  re- 
sult compares  favorably  with  the  results  Avhich 
tollow  many  a  so-called  love  match.  Of  course 
1  don  t  pretend  to  say  that  it  affords  the  com- 
plete happmess  which  is  supposed  to  be  the 
outcome  of  wedded  life,  but  it  is  a  verv  ffood 
'  second  best.'  '  ^ 

"  Mr.  Thompson  is  a  gentleman  who  will 
always  make  his  way  in  the  world  and  conduct 
himself  properly.  He  is  good-looking,  tall,  and 
ot  a  robust  build,  and  has  marked  abilitv.  He 
IS  distinguishing  himself  in  politics,  and  receives 
a  salary  of  four  thousand  dollars  a  year  His 
picture  is  in  the  portrait  folio  of  Canada's  great 
men.  ® 

"I  tliink  that  not  the  least  of  the  great 
things  he  has  done  was  to  marry  me.  I  don't 
claim  to  be  a  model,  but  I  know  that  I  am  an 
improvement  on  the  old-fashioned  stepmother 
I  am  bringing  up  his  two  children  as  conscieni 
tiouslv  and,  yes,  as  lovingly  us  their  own  mother 
would  have  done. 

"  Mr.  Thompson  is  twenty  years  older  than  I. 
He  calls  me  'dear  child.'  He  laughs  at  the 
mistakes  of  my  inexperience,  reproves  me  play- 
fully when  reproof  is  necessary,  and  relieves 
me  of  all  responsibility  of  choice  and  judgment. 
.  He  IS  a  fatherly  husband  and  takes  care  of 
me  ma  tender,  thoughtful  fashion.  Sometimes  I 
leel  like  asserting  my  will-power,  maturity,  and 
independence,  for  it  is  only  in  his  idea  of  me 


11 


316    SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

that  I  am  young  and  ignorant.  But  it  is  the 
role  he  prefers,  so  why  not  let  him  phiy  it? 
Ihen,  too,  it  is  not  improbable  that  if  I  de- 
manded to  be  treated  as  an  equal,  he  would  re- 
Imquish  his  jocosely  patient  attitude,  and  be- 
come   dictatorial.     Instead   of    prefacing    his 

you  AVI  1  do  so,  and  so,  if  agreeable,'  he  would 
samp  his  feet  and  thunderf '  Mrs.   Thompson 

1  Jv^»    ^'^  ^r  ^''^^^^.^r  '  ^«  y«"  l^ear  what 
f-^    ,   ^^>^11  possibilities  considered,  I  am 

stiin  s  ''''  '"^''''*  '"^  paternal  leading- 

.J     uA^'""^  V*^^^^'^  ^^^^^^  ^'^  f-^11  in  love.     I 
thought  it  must  be  a  delightful  experience.  Girls 
who  had  succumbed  to  tLe  popular  malady  said 
that  they  couldn't  understand  how  they  lived 
before  it  happened.     I  had  it  for  half  a  day 
once,  or  thought  I  had.     I  felt   as  poets  do 
when  they  are  inspired.     The   workl   was  a 
vision  of  beauty,  and  life  was  a  passionate  ioy 
There  was  a  hectic  flush  on  my  cheeks  and 
my  eps  were  twice  their  natural  size.   It  was  an 
mtoxicatmg  emotion,  but  I  was  afraid  it  would 
wear  on  my  health.     Next  day  I  was  laid  low 
with  bram  fever.    When  J  recovered,  the  object 
ot  my  ardent  admiration  had  left  town  after 
engaging  himself  to  another  girl.    Upon  reflec- 
tion I  concluded  that  I  had  mistaken  the  pre- 
monitory symptoms  of  fever  for   the  tender 
passion.    But  that  came  as  near  to  a  victory  for 
Cupid  as  anything  that  ever  happened  in  my 
experience.  ^  ^ 

"Perhaps  you  expect  me  to  give  you  some 
^vice  that  will  guide  you  into  a  straight  path 


am 


THE  MA  TRIMONIA L  CONFIDENCE  CL  UB.    317 

of  m.itriniony.  But  that  is  beyond  me.  Un- 
cloubtedly  marriage  is  a  great  problem,  and 
a<lmits  ot  more  tlian  one  solution,  thou<di  no 
number  of  solutions  are  adequate  to  cover  its 
exiirenoif'S- 


'  Love  should  be  the  prime  mover  and  motive 
power  m  such  a  union,  yet  I  coukl  give  you 
many  instances  of  love-marriages  Avhich  have 
resulted  unhji])pily,  and  a  few  exceptional  cases 
ot  marriage  basetl  upon  friendship  or  mutual 
adaptability,  which  have  turned  out  favorably 
Lmerson  says  that  '  there  is  a  modicum  of 
true  marriage  in  the  most  ill-assorted  union,' 
and  1  would  add  that  in  marriages  which  are 
apparently  the  most  perfect,  tJicre  are  some 
elements  of    discord.     While    human    nature 
retains  its  inherent   imperfections,  and  Love 
goes  about  with  one  blind  eye  and  a  rose-colored 
eyeglass  over  the  other,  it  is  useless  to  expect 
any  ideal  condition  of  wedded  life.     Blessed  is 
she  who  marries  expecting  nothing,  for  she  will 
not  be  disappointed. 

"Have  I  said  that  I  am  a  contented  woman 
and  do  not  envy  those  of  my  friends  who  are 
single  ?  If  I  haven't,  I  say  it  now  with  a  smile 
ot  self-congratulation Nind  a  dutiful  glance  at 
Mr.  Ihompson's  shadow,  which  is  thrown  on 
the  wall  near  me  from  the  opposite  room. 

"The  good  man  hnnself,  large  as  lifi  and 
more  natural  than  nature,  is  sitting  in  his  study 
with  chair  tilted  against  tlie  wall  and  his  feet 
on  the  desk,  reading  AYilfred  Laurier's  last 
speech  on  the  Manitoba  school  question  I 
have  just  interrupted  him  to  ask  his  opinion  of 
luarriage.  ^ 


\\ 


1 

1 

MM 

n*' 


318     SA/NTS,  SINNERS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

"l^'^'^'}y^^}G^r,'lsiud--hG  likes  this  playful 
method  of  alluding  to  his  a-e-*give  me  a  short 
definition  of  marriage.' 

"  lie  looked  at  me  in  a  ])iizzled  way,  took  ofl 
his  glasses,  rubbed  them,  i)ut  them  on  again, 
then  coughed  to  give  himself  time 

" '  Hem !  Humph !  Hem !  Is  it  a  little  essay 
you  are  Avriting,  (Tear  child  ^  I  hope  you  are 
not  thinking  of  having  it  printed  ?  Publicity 
for  women  is  very  objectionable,  you  know.' 

I  set  his,  fears   at  rest  on  th*is  point,  and, 
finally,  after  a  long  struggle  with  the  question 
he  looked  at  me  and  smiled  with  an  air  of  pro' 
tound  insight   into  the   mysteries  of  Hymen 
and  i  held  my  breath,  waiting  for  the  brilliant 
Idea  which  he  had  evolved. 

" '  Dear  child !  How  simple  you  are ! '  he  said. 
Marriage  has  only  one  meaning.  It  is  the 
union  of  man  and  Avoman  as  husband  and  wife  ' 
"I  gasped  and  fled  from  his  presence  I 
might  have  got  that  out  of  the  dictionary, 
liut  1  was  not  to  be  intimidated  in  my  pursuit 
of  a  definition.  I  consulted  my  housekeeper, 
Mrs.  Burke.  '■     ' 

" ;  Marriage,'  she  said  calmly,  '  is  a  means  of 
discmline.' 

"I  bfelieve  she  is  right,  and  we  should  wel- 
come discipline,  because  it  is  good  for  us  • 
therefore  I  have  reason  to  be  thankful  that  I 
am  married,  and  venture  to  express  the  hope 
that  you  will  become  a  candidate  for  discipline 
"  Your  loving  friend, 

"  Kathleen  Thompson. 

"  P.  S.     Seriously,   dear  Emily,  J  hope  you 


Hint 


THE  MATRIMONIAL  CONFIDENCE  CLUB. 


319 


will  marry.     Single  life  is  uncomfortable  and 

wlT.'    "9^^ t  "^^^r^y  a  widower.     But  stop! 
What  am  I  saymg;   shadow  of  Mr.  Thompson 
forgive  me!     ferry  a  widower  by  all  means' 

husband.  But  impress  upon  him  from  the 
beginning  he  fact  that  you' are  not  ael^ld,and 
hold  to  it  bravely  in  sjnte  of  his  insinua  ions 
to  the  contrary.  Men  like  to  make  dolls  and 
playthings  of  women,  it  enhances  their  sense 
ot  importance  and  superiority.  They  foro-et 
handlin'Jr  '"'''''"  '''^"''''  '^""^  suffer  in  th'^eir 

K  "¥'  ^\  T^^^'-  Thompson  is  an  estimable  hus- 
band, and  I  would  not  change  places  with  any 
woman  of  my  acquaintance.  K.  T." 

The  next  letter  was  short  and  characteristic 
of  the  writer,  who  had  been  a  sweet,  practical 
girl,  with  a  talent  for  housekeeping. 

«Tir     T^  "  ^®°-  20,  189-. 

My  Dear  EMiLY--What  a  joke  that  you  of 
all  others  should  be  the  singular  person,  whom 
we  discourteously  term  '  the  old  maid ! '  You 
were  almost  married  ten  years  ago.  Your  at- 
tractions were  superior  to  ours  and  your  lovers 
were  legion.  At  the  time  we  made  our  com- 
pact, I  mentally  decided  that  I  would  be  the  one 
to  receive  the  confessions  of  the  Confidence 
ivlub,  tor  1  had  no  matrimonial  project  in  view 
and  was  never  a  favorite  with  gentlemen. 
However,  it  was  fated  to  be  otherwise,  and  I 
pre^mne  that  we  are  all  in  t]i©  hands  of  a  wisg 


i 


\ 


320   SAINTS,  sinni:rs  and  queer  people. 

Providence,    who  orders   everything    for  our 
good. 

"  Though  you  have  missed  certain  phases  of 
happiness,  you  have  also  escaped  many  cares, 
and  you  have  resources  of  pleasure  which  are 
not  possible  to  your  married  friends,  who  are 
necessarily  restricted  in  point  of  time  and  oiv 
portunity.  I  have  much  to  say  to  you,  yet  I 
must  be  brief,  for  I  am  writing  under  diificul- 
ties.  My  servant  has  left  without  warning  and 
I  have  been  trying  to  do  the  work,  with  three 
babies  pulling  at  my  skirts  and  making  the  air 
hideous  with  their  cries. 

"It  is  evening  and  they  are  now  asleep; 
dear  Frank  is  rocking  the  baby's  cradle  with 
his  foot  as  he  reads  his  newspaper.  I  am  too 
tired  to  write  a  long  letter,  though  my  heart 
^oes  out  to  you  with  a  wealth  of  londnff,  lov- 
mg  thoughts. 

"  Now,  what  shall  I  say  to  you  about  my  mar- 
ried life  ?  How  express  to  you  in  a  few  words 
my  exact  condition  of  needy  'happiness,  or  happy 
adversity  ?  We  are  poor,  we  have  none  of  the 
luxuries  of  life  and  sometimes  lack  for  the  nec- 
essaries, yet  I  doubt  if  you  could  find  a  more 
contented  family. 

"  My  little  world  is  my  home.  I  live  in  it 
and  for  it.  I  ceased  to  expect  anything  for 
myself,  but  for  my  children  I  am  very  ambi- 
tious. I  am  carefully  striving  to  develop 
all  that  is  best  in  them,  with  a  view  to  their 
future  success  and  happiness.  Sometimes  I  am 
envious  of  my  rich  neighbors,  for  the  worldly 
nature  dies  hard  in  me ;  but,  after  all,  wealth 
brings  Its  own  troubles  and  temptations,  and 


THE  MATRIMONIAL  CONFIDENCE  CLUB.    321 

surely  I  have  things  which  make  life  worth 
living. 

"  This  morning  I  was  dismayed  on  discover- 
ing that  I  cannot  afford  myself  a  new  bonnet, 
and  that  my  old  black  silk  dress  must  be  re- 
modelled for  the  fourth  time,  and  made  to  do 
duty  as  a  Sunday  gown. 

"  Frank  smilecl  rather  tearfully  when  I  spoke 
ot  my  scanty  wardrobe  and  said:    *  It's  too 
bad ;  I  wish  I  couid  dress  you  in  silk  velvet  and 
diamonds.     But  what's  the  odds,  sweet  wife 
as  long  as  we  are  happy?      You  are  always 
beautiful  in  my  eyes,  no  matter  what  you  wear.' 
He  makes  such  speeches  very  prettily  even 
yet,  and  his  conjugal  manners  are  ideally  per- 
tect.     1  cannot  remember   that  he   has  ever 
been  rude  to  me  ;  and  though  we  do  not  always 
agree,  we  disagree  amicably,  and  have  never 
had  our  <  first  quarrel.' 

"I  don't  go  out  much,  and  have  little  time  for 
books,  but  some  times  Frank  reads  tome  while 
1  am  at  work  I  am  afraid  I  am  rather  old- 
tashioned  and  behind  the  times,  and  I  am  always 
hoping  for  a  chance  to  catch  up,  but  somehow 
It  never  comes.  I  am  looking  forward  to  the 
time  when  my  children  will  be  grown  up  and 
i  shall  enter  upon  an  old  age  of  profltable 
leisure,  with  opportunity  to  improve  myself  in 
many  ways  which  are  at  present  impossible.' 

I  really  think  that  olci  age  is  the  sweetest 
period  of  a  woman's  life,  a  heaven  of  rest  from 
cares  ot  her  earlier  years.    As  a  younff  wife 
she  sows  the  future  for  herself  and  children 
As  a  mother  with  gray  hair  and  feeble  step, 
Bhe  reaps  the  harvest ;  and  her  declining  years 


n 


'I' 


I 


822    SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

are  crowned    with   a    halo  of  hope's   fulfill- 
mejit. 

"  I  am  very  fond  of  my  Iiusoand,  and  would 
not  be  sinf^le  again  if  I  could.  Though  we  do 
not  figure  in  society,  there  are  red-letter  chiys 
in  our  ordinarily  quiet  existence  ;  for  instance, 
when  I  entertain  a  few  of  our  friends,  and' 
bring  out  the  best  china,  which  once  belonged 
to  my  grandmother,  or  when  we  are  pre])aring 
for  Christmas,  or  planning  some  little  surprise 
for  the  childrbn,  on  their  birthdays. 

"When  we  go  out  on  shop])ing  excursions 
of  an  evening,  my  hand  resting  lovingly  on 
Frank's  arm  and  his  dear  eyes  smiling  down 
into  mine,  I  forget  that  I  am  not  as  well 
dressed  as  many  of  the  women  we  meet, 
and  that  my  purse  is  not  as  heavy  as  theirs. 
Love  and  peace  in  the  heart  and  "liome  atone 
for  the  hardships  of  grinding  economv,  and 
sweeten  adversity. 

"  The  letters  you  Avill  receive  from  the  other 
members  of  our  club  will  be  very  different 
from  mine.  They  will  reveal  another  side  of 
life — the  glimmer  of  wealth  and  social  achieve^ 
ment. 

"  Mrs.  Gibson  is  one  of  society's  lights,  and 
has  developed  into  a  beautiful,  brilliant  Avoman. 
She  sent  me  her  picture  last  Christmas  ;  it  is 
an  artistic  creation,  which  makes  me  feel  dowdy 
and  insignificant  by  comparison. 

"  Mrs.  Eedmond,  our  lively '  Dolly,'  is  fashion- 
able and  lovely,  and  seems  "^to  enjoy  life  on  a 
large  and  magnificent  scale.  I  can't  imagine 
Avhat  she  ever  saw  in  that  heavy-footed,  stupid 
young  Tom  Redmond,    All  he  thi.iks  about 


THE  MATiintoxiAL  coNFtw^yat:  ctun.  nL>a 

tipjKinmtly  is  money  making,  and  Frank  is  of 
tho  ()[)inion  that  some  of  liis  scliemes  are  ratiier 
'  shady.' 

"  As  for  me— I  am  only  a  i)lod(linff,  liome- 
lovmLr  httlo  nobody,  happy  with  my  liusband 
and  tho  chihlren  and  asking  nothino-  of  the 
great  noisy  worhl,  except  that  it  wiiriejive  me 
alone  in  ])eace. 

';  ^]M  is  stirring,  so  I  must  cease  scribbling, 
i^rankiuis  been  dozing  over  his  paijcr,  but  is 
now  sufficiently  awa1:e  to  make  a  remark.  It  • 
IS  a  rather  foolish  one,  and  grammatically  a 
little  mixed,  but  I  repeat  it  for  what  it  is  worth. 
ile  says :  '  Kyery  single  man  and  woman  be- 
tween the  ages  of  twenty  and  sixty  should 
think  seriously  of  getting  married,  and  if  they 
don  t.  It  s  because  they  don't  knoAV  what's  xjood 
tor  them.'  ° 

"  I]elieye  me,  dear  Emily,  with  loving  mem- 
ories ot  the  past,  and  best  wishes  for  your 
present  and  future  happiness,  \om  devoted 
Iriend, 

"Mary  Dawks  Benson." 

Miss  Lane  sat  perfectly  still  for  a  long  time 
with  the  letters  in  her  lap.  IJer  pale,  sweet 
face  had  an  exalted  expression  of  sympathy.  In 
her  eyes  were  blended  joy  and  sorrow,— regret 
for  the  sadness  of  others,  and  deep  heart-satis- 
faction  in  the  thought  of  tho  one  really  happy 
home  to  which  she  had  been  introduced.  She 
was  not  without  a  sense  of  humor,  and  some  of 
tho  inconsistencies  in  her  friends'  letters  were 
amusing  to  lier—deliciously  amusinff. 


324    .S.4/iVr.s',  SINNERS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

But  she  felt  sure  that  each  one  liad  anxiously 
endeavored  to  be  truthful  in  presenting  her  case, 
and,  as  she  turned  their  words  over  in  her  mind, 
and  contrasted  her  own  privileges  with  theirs, 
she  felt  she  had  a  right  to  the  logical  conclusion 
that,  on  the  whole,  slie  was  happier  than  they, 
and  she  reproached  herself  for  the  discontent 
which  had  sometimes  threatened  to  disturb  her 
peace. 

The  lire  had  died  down  till  it  was  only  a 
glowing  mass  of  coals,  throwing  out  its  last 
remnnnt  of  warmth  and  brightness.  The 
winter  winds  howled  and  shrieked  at  the  win- 
dows with  many  an  uncanny  suggestic:;.  A 
silvery-voiced  clock  struck  the  hour  of  eleven. 
There  was  still  another  letter  to  be  read, 
before  the  Confidence  Club  might  bo  said  to 
have  given  its  evidence  in  full.  It  was  a  plump 
letter,  twice  as  heavy  as  any  of  the  others. 

Miss  Lan(?  turned  it  over  meditatively.  She 
knew  that  no  matter  what  Carrie  Wilson's 
personal  experience  uf  marriage  might  be,  that 
her  written  opinions  would  be  witty  and  inter- 
esting, unless  she  had  changed  since  her  girl- 
hood. She  was  tempted  to  leave  it  unopened 
till  morning.  She  thought  she  knew  the  trend 
of  its  contents.  Dolly  Redmond  and  Carrie 
Wilson,  had  been  room-mates  and  close  friends, 
with  like  tastes  and  sympathies,  and  if  the 
dainty  Carrie  was  obliged  to  deny  herself  the 


TllK  ytATiny.OSlAL  CONFtDENC^  CLUH.    325 

good  things  of  life,  it  would  be  another  case  of 
uncongenial  environment,  [ind  negative  misery, 
partially  covered  by  excuses  for  dear  Tom  or 
Dick  or  Harry,  and  half-hearted  assurances  of 
matrimonial  satisfaction. 

Already  her  head  was  in  a  whirl  with  con- 
flicting mental  images,  beautiful  thoughts,  and 
strange  problems  struggling  in  a  chaos  of  in- 
consequent ideas.  There  would  be  no  sleep 
for  her  to-night.  If  she  retired  now  it  would 
be  only  to  dream  of  husbands  dozing  behind 
newspapers,  and  tragic-eyed  women  conscien- 
tiously posing  as  "  i  '  tience  on  a  monumi  nt." 

She  looked  at  t  iotter  again,  and  as  she 
pressed  it  between  her  thumb  nnd  forefinger 
tlu  ..  d  broke.  That  decided  hi  r.  She  would 
read  it  even  if  it  kept  her  awake  all  night. 
She  tore  it  open  and  drew  out  half  a  quire  of 
note-paper  cc.  /ered  with  pi-etty  angular  hand- 
writing. 

"  D ,  Dec.  20th,  189—. 

"Dear  Emily — I've  been  looking  forward 
with  pleasure  to  this  pportunity  of  telling  you 
what  I  think  about  the  beneficent  institution  of 
marriage.  I  wish,  dear,  that  you  too  were  mar- 
ried, it  would  make  it  easier  for  me  to  express 
my  whole  heart  on  the  question.  I  must  tell  the 
truth,  you  know,  and  yet  I  don't  want  to  make 
you  discontented  or  envious. 

"  Well,  as  you  are  aware,  I  became  one,  two 
1  was  only  an  insignificant  parti- 


I 


i.' 


years  ago. 


i 


§26   sAmts,  siNi^^Eks  AJ^D  qvi:mi  people. 

fele  before  for  a  woman  is  not  complete,  till 
the  important  other  half  is  added  on  to  her 
personality  It  was  time  I  married,  so  people 
f  1  *u  }  ^""^  /eaclied  the  fatal  thirty,  but  I 
didn't  feel  old  and  never  shall. 

"The  Wilsons  are  eternally  younff  Ber- 
tram IS  the  only  man  I  ever  loved  or  fancied  I 
loved,  the  one  desire  of  my  eyes.  I  met  him 
many  years  ago  to  be  accurate,  nine  years  aero 
to  a  day,  and  after  that  there  was  practicallv 
no  other  man'm  the  world ;  all  the  others  weri 

n?H.1«''"?  '"'T/'"  l6«^  perfect,  of  the  genuine 
article.  I  said  to  myself :  '  Caroline,  ySur  old- 
maid  schemes  are  shattered ;  you  must  either 
marry  that  man  or  pine  away  into  an  earlv 
grave,  according  to  the  approved  method  ih 
sentimental  novels.' 

"  You  will  Avish  to  know  exactly  what  sort  of 
a  man  he  is,  fair  or  dark,  homely  or  handsome 
short  or  tall.  Girls  are  alwa/s  interesteclTn 
asking  such  questions  though  l  don't  see  that 
they  are  much  to  the  point.  A  woman  does 
not  love  a  man's  outside ;  at  least,  she  loves 
him  first  for  some  internal  quality,  after  that 
she  loves  him  body  and  soul,  and  tlmt,  too,  with-' 
out  regard  to  his  shape  or  complexion ;  it  would 
be  the  same  no  matter  how  he  looked  But  I 
Sand  ^^^^^  ^^^^^^^  "^^"^  curiosity  about  my 
.    "  Open  your  eyes  and  ears  while  I  brinff  him 

of  the  kind,  as  the  showman  said  at  Barnum's 
circus,  when  he  introduced  the  winged  elephant. 
He  is  below  medium  height,  and  slendeV,  and- 
tips  the  scales  at  a  hundred  and  thirty  pounds  • 


Mi  MAfniMONiAL  COlfFlbEXCB  CLifil.   327 

undeniably  a  small  man.  ]Jnt  I'll  not  talk 
about  his  size  now;  I'll  probably  mention  it 
severa  times  before  I  have'finisl,e,l  I  am™  ot 
sure  whetlier  his  eyes  are  blue  or  grav  but  thc^v 
are  very  nice  eyes  indeed,  clearftrlihTul  anj 
expressive,  with  cheery  lights  in'  their  depths 

asir-gr  '  "''''"''''  '^"*  ''  '^  -'••^'  •'--We 
"His  other  features  including  bis  mous- 
tache are  fairly  good.  His  hair  is"  brown  and 
fortunately  tliere  is  enough  of  it  to  cover 
his  head  His  teeth  are  strong  and  white  and 
enhance  his  appearance  when  Se  sm^s  whle 

"^t  by  any  means  seldom.    His  ears  are  set 
back  tidily  against  his  head,  they  do  not  flap  or 

S;'  ^rf?^^^?^^',)l^«  «tyle  is 'neat  but  Ct 
?nf,?^  n  ^^  ''  \ntel  igent,  well  educated,  and 
naturallv  clever,  but  he  is  not  the  least  bit  con- 
ceited ;  he  IS  more  apt  to  think  that  other  peo- 
ple know  more  than  he  does.  He  doesn't  mS 
any  loud  Drofession  of  religion,  but  he  is  genu 
inely  goocT  in  his  simple,  Unostentatious  way 
I  suppose  he  has  his  allotted  ,)ortion  of  'original 

Tkeep's't  '  ^''P^''  ^"'  ^  '"^'^ ^'^'^^^^^^  ^^^'"'^ 
"He  has  nr^ver  been  considered  a  brilliant  or 
successful  man,  but  there  is  something  n  him 
that  nobody  sees  but  me-something  that  ™ 
akm  to  he  elements  of  greatness,  an!  I  have 
an  Idea  that  with  me  for  a  helpmate  he  w  H 
surprise  the  world  some  day.  lie  is  not  much 
of  a  talker  but  when  he  has  .anything  to  say  he 

S  mor^ffn^'^  ''''}^  r^^"«  sinc'Jare 
otten  more  effective  and  eloquent  than  words 

t'r'tS.^^^^^^"^^^^  ^-'^^'^y  -  ^-  absolute 


7  51 
i    :,im 

i 


32§    BAiNTS,  SINNjEHS  Aifl)  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

"  He  is  frank,  transparent,  and  sincere  in 
thought,  Avord,  and  deed ;  and  there  is  some- 
thing about  him  which  compels  truth  from 
the  lips  and  conduct  of  those  with  whom 
he  associates.  I  could  not  deceive  him  if  I 
tried  and  I  would  never  dream  of  attempting 
the  slightest  equivocation.  If  such  a  tempta- 
tion occurred  to  me  I  would  feel  unworthy  to 
be  the  wife  of  my  husband.  My  heart's  cur- 
rents run  a^  free  and  clear  in  the  light  and 
warmth  of  his  love,  as  the  limpid  stream  which 
reflects  the  sunlight. 

"  Ko  doubt  there  is  in  all  of  us  a  tendency  to 
evil  which  constitutes  our  baser  self,  and  some 
people  who  have  the  affinitive  counterpart 
within  themselves  can  call  it  to  the  surface 
easier  than  others  could  ;  so  is  the  true,  good 
self  within  us  aroused  and  inspired  by  the  good 
in  another  person.  My  love  is  based  upon  this 
principle  of  affinitive  attraction.  The  ^ood  in 
me  seeks  and  is  satisfied  with  the  good  m  him, 
and  this  union  of  the  best  in  each  of  us,  forms 
a  stronghold,  against  which  our  baser  selves 
are  powerless. 

"  You  will  laugh  to  yourself  and  say  that  we 
have  been  married  only  a  short  time  and  that 
I  am  still  under  the  spell  of  novelty ;  but  you 
must  remember  that  we  were  engaged  for 
seven  years,  and  saw  each  other  aunost  con- 
stantly. I  didn't  know  how  long  I  would  need 
to  wait  for  him,  for  he  was  most  ignominiously 
poor,  and  hadn't  one  rich  relative  to  bless  him- 
self with,  but  I  would  have  waited  a  hundred 
years  if  necessary. 

"  He  wouldn't  have  aspired  to  me,  the  pam- 


I 


fiiE  Matrimonial  confidence  cwb.  329 

pered  daughter  of  a  wealthy  man  if  I  hadn't 
encouraged  him.  I  knew  lie  loved  me  and 
would  die  rather  than  admit  it  till  he  wasin 
a  better  position  to  support    a  wife      After 

Part'  Tn^l  7'^''  "^™'  ^^^^1  ^lfr«^*  wett  to 
D^r]  'of?     1^"™^?  ^'^  T^^^^to,  the  generous 

vvf  ly.  ^?^  ''"  ""  ^'^'"°  ^"  Castle  Bolemia  if 
we  chose  to  marry.  iciina  u 

"  But  Bertram  wouldn't  hear  of  it.  He  is 
very  independent.  So  I  encouraged  him  and  he 
plodded  along  like  the  hero  that\e  is,  and  the 
years  rolled  on,  while  we  loved  each  other  and 
Wd  and  waited. .  I  smoothed  out  my  wrinkles 
with  a  flannel  wash  rag  and  hot  water  and  tS 
sfbleXTf  ?"'.''"^  V^^"^^  asTongas  ;os 
an  old  bride  I  have  always  desired  to  make 
the  most  and  best  of  myself  for  his  sake 

DresIce'ornT^^i^r*^^  ^*  ^«"»«»  '^  the 
presence  of  a  few  relatives.    A  funnV  thine- 

happened  at  the  close  of  the  wedding  servce^ 

that^^  where  the  all-important  kiss  comlsir^^^^^ 
know.  Bertram  forgot  about  the  people  who 
Avere  standing  arouSd,  and  he  kissed  me  no? 
once  or  tmce  but  half-a-dozen  times  quite 
ravenously  just  as  he  does  when  no  one  is 
looking.  I  don't  know  how  long  he  would 
have  kept  it  up  if  I  hadn't  freed  oSe  corner  of 
my  mouth  and  said  'check ! '  He  is  a  chess 
teant  '^"*  '"'"'^  straightened  him  up  L 

"As  to  our  married  life  it  is  exactly  in  ac- 
cordance with  my  ideal.    I  began  to  dLLm  of 

means,  and  the    reality  exceeds  my  highest 


■    ~r 


I  I 


H^O    fiAlNfS,  Sl^fNms  AKD  qUEEIt  PEOPLE. 


expectations.  My  husband  is  my  lover,  my 
friend,  confidante,  and  chum ;  the  satisfying  all 
in  one.  We  seem  rather  selfish  perhaps,  indeed 
it  has  been  remarked  of  us  more  than  once. 
Certain  persons  think  they  have  a  grievance 
because  they  feel  superfluous  when  in  our  com- 
pany. 

"We  don't  even  see  them  sometimes,  we 
are  so  completely  absorbed  in  each  other. 
There  is  some  truth  in  it,  but  why  should  they 
complain,  wliat  do  they  expect  ?  I  don't  know 
why  there  should  be  any  objection  to  our  ap- 
pearing to  be  what  vre  really  are — one,  in  the 
completest  sense  of  the  word.  *^  We  can  tolerate 
acquaintances  when  they  are  agreeable,  and 
our  friends  are  heartily  welcome  to  our  home ; 
but  they  are  all  superfluous  in  this  respect  that 
we  could  live  without  them,  so  long  as  we  are 
spared  to  each  other. 

"  Our  pleasures  and  amusements,  as  well  as 
our  serious  purposes  of  life  are  identical,  and 
this  union  of  sympathy  is  strengthened  and 
deepened  day  b\  day.  I  never  could  under- 
stand those  people,  who,  as  soon  as  they  are 
tied  together  for  all  time,  straightway  begin 
to  puU  m  opposite  directions,  as  if  their  object 
was  to  see  what  a  bad  tangle  they  could  make 
of  the  connu  bial  knot.  In  little  and  big  matters 
we  are  of  one  mind,  so  we  have  no  cause  for 
disagreement. 

"  What  pleases  him  pleases  me,  and  if  I 
did  hot  like  it  for  itself,  it  would  still  be 
satisfactory  to  me  solely  because  he  wished 
it.  Do  you  understand,  you  dear,  independent 
woman  ?     No,  I  don't  suppose  you  do,  though 


THE  MATRIMONIAL  CONFIDENCE  CLUB.    331 

you  would  be  luippier  if  you  did.  Self-sacri- 
fice, and  self-abnegiition  are  the  sweetest  thino-s 
when  one  loves.  ^ 

"Duty  is  an  unsmiling  task-master  Avho  doles 
out  his  rewards  grudgingly,  but  love  makes 
every  act  of  self-surrender  such  a  conscious 
delight,  that  reward  is  a  meaningless  word 
as  though  one  should  quaff  life's  full  cup 
to  the  last  intoxicating  drop  and  still  ask 
more,  as  a  reward  for  drinking  it. 

"More?  There  is  no  more.  It  is  the  one 
satisfying  draught  that  is  held  to  our  lips  by 
the  hand  of  Fate.  Fame,  riches,  intellectual 
achievement,  even  the  lofty  purposes  of  social 
reformation  which  agitate  the  feminine  mind 
in  these  latter  days,  are  as  nothing  compared  to 
It.  If  a  woman  is  so  unfortunate  as  never  to 
knovv  this  Divine  mvstery,  then  it  is  allowable 
for  her  to  interest  herself  in  the  best  way  she 
can,  and  devote  herself  to  some  noble  calling. 
Ikit  unless  she  is  a  very  peculiar  mortal  she  must 
always  know  in  the  depths  of  her  heart  that 
she  has  missed  the  purpose  of  her  existence 
and  failing  this,  is  simply  putting  in  time  to  as 
good  an  advantage  as  possible. 

"  Talking  of  amusement,  last  summer  a  num- 
ber of  gentlemen  got  up  a  camping  expedition 
and  asked  my  husband  to  join  them.  He  jeered 
at  the  idea,  said  he  wasn't  such  a  chump  as  to 
go  off  rusticating  with  men,  and  imagine  he 
was  enjoying  himself.  It  was  all  very  well  for 
the  fellows  who  hadn't  a  Avife  or  sweetheart, 
but  as  for  him  he  had  a  jollier  scheme  in  view. 
"  We  went  together,  Bertram  and  I,  how  else 
Bhould  we  go  ?    It  was  a  legalized  temptation, 


^1 


332   SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

and  we  had  no  need  of  any  troublesome  third 
l)orsoii.  We  made  a  trip  of  a  hundred  miles 
on  our  bicycles,  and  oh,  what  a  delightful  time 
we  had !  I'll  tell  you  more  about  it  some  day 
when  I  am  less  burdened  with  matrimonial  coii- 
lidences.  "We  rode,  hunted,  boated,  and  swam 
together.  By  the  way,  Emily,  I  have  become 
quite  an  adept  at  manly  sports.  Of  course  I 
could  play  tennis  and  golf  and  football  before 
I  was  marri^ed,  but  now  I  am  a  crack  shot  and 
can  swim  like  a  duck.  I  don't  think  that  I  am 
unfeminized  by  these  recreations.  I  hope  not. 
I  abhor  a  mannish  woman. 

"  Bertram  and  I  are  fond  of  reading.  The 
early  part  of  our  courting  was  done  largely 
through  the  medium  of  books.  When  he  was 
too  shy  to  take  the  personal  responsibility  of 
a  tender  statement  on  his  own  behalf,  he  would 
search  diligently  for  printed  passages  which 
demonstrated  his  state  of  mmd,  and,  when 
found,  underlined  them  delicately,  and  lent  me 
the  hook ;  as  he  gradually  grew  bolder,  lines 
became  correspondingly  blacker,  till  at  last  he 
even  dared  to  scribble  notes  in  the  margin.  I 
enjoyed  the  custom,  it  gave  us  an  insight  into 
each  ^other's  mental  processes,  and  facilitated 
conversation. 

"  We  have  not  departed  from  it  altogether 
even  yet.  We  buy  all  the  new  books  that  are 
worth  reading,  and  discuss  them  during  our 
cosy  evening  talks.  I  make  myself  look  pretty 
for  my  husband  as  I  did  in  the  days  when  he 
came  wooing.  Ko  married  woman  can  afford 
to  be  neglectful  of  the  httle  prettinesses  and 
charms  of  dress  and  manner,  which  caught 


THE  MATBIMONIAL  CONFIDENCE  CLUB.   333 

her  lover's  fancy,  neither  can  she  afford  to 
slight  her  accomplishments.  The  woman  who 
loves  IS  always  anxious  to  look  well  and 
cultivate  her  every  gift  of  beauty  and  talent. 
Why  should  she  become  dull  and  dowdv,  and 
forget  the  ittle  she  ever  knew  as  soon  ^  she 
has  succeeded  m  catching  a  man  ? 

"I  like  to  see  my  husband  look  his  best-  if 
he  vvere  careless  as  to  his  appearance,  I  would 
consider  it  a  poor  compliment  to  me,  and  I 
know  that  he  feels  as  I  do.  Apropos  of  Ber- 
tram s  appearance,  I  must  tell  you  a  little  story. 
My  bridesmaid  had  a  decided  penchant  for 
large  men.  Her  ambition  was  to  marry  a  six- 
looter,  who  was  as  thick  through  as  they  make 
them.  When  I  asked  her  how  she  liked  my 
Husband,  she  said  patronizingly  • 

Jll^^^}^ '^^""^  "'''f'  Carrie,  hut  what  did  you 
see  to  admire  m  such  a  little  man  ?  If  he  Afere 
bigger  he  would  be  adorable.  I  coukl  never 
marry  a  man  of  his  size.  I  wouldn't  be  able  to 
respect  him.' 

"I  winced  under  this  unfeeling  speech,  it 

hurt  me,  for  the  largest  ingredient^n  \he  com! 
position  of  my  love,  is  respect,  nay,  absolute 
reverence  I  grovel  at  my  beloved's  feet  and 
kiss  his  shoe-strings,  metaphorically  speaking, 
every  hour  of  the  day.  ^     ^  ctivmg, 

*  ThJT\  "'^' x/  "I'  '""l^^^  ^^^g'^ity  and  replied  -. 

1  hat  Bertram  HoAvard  was  the  biggest  man  I   - 
knew,'  and  I  was  on  the  point  of  fSflowing  up 
this  declaration  by  a  hap-tazard  estimate  as  to 
the  size  of  his  soul,  when  I  checked  myself.    I 

clte^X1kin'  "^'^  *^  ^  girl  whoVedso 


:     (^ 


if 


834    SAINTS,  SINNERS  AND  QUEER  PEOPLE. 

"  She  married  shortly  after  and  she  certainly 
got  what  she  wanted  in  the  way  of  huoe  cor- 
poreal proportions.  A  few  mbnths  aSo  s-he 
invited  us  to  visit  her.  We  went,  my  hus- 
band and  I,  pre])are(l  to  be  properly  humble 
on  account  of  our  short  stature.  She  Las  a 
beautiful  home,  everything  d  la  mode.  He 
Jias  Ji  smoking-room  downstairs,  Avith  a  side- 
board m  one  corner,  filled  with  classes,  de- 
canters, bottles,  etc.  She  has  a  library  up- 
stairs adjoining  her  sleeping  apartment.  In 
theevenmgsho  holds  high  carnival  with  seme 
ot  his  convivial  associates,  while  she  amuses 
herself  with  the  latest  novel. 

"  I  couldn't  discover  where  he  slept,  probably 
under  the  table  or  in  the  sideboard  with  congen- 
ial spn-its.     I  hadn't  been  in  the  house  five  hours 
before  I  knew  that  this  big  Benedict  is  a  verit- 
able tyrant.     Anybody  might  know  that  by  the 
way  he  puts  his  feet  down.     He  is  so  big  that  he 
gets  into  his  own  eyes  and  can't  see  anybody 
else  c  early.     He  seems    to  have  a  funny  idea 
that  the  earth  and  everything  in  it,  was  made 
tor  his  special  benefit.      He  is  masterful  and 
authoritative  and  can  make  his  wife  shrink  and 
wince  by  a  word  or  look.     When  anything  dis- 
pleases him,  he  sulks  and  is  morbidly  possessed 
with  the  idea  that  somebody  owes  h'im  an  apol- 
ogy. 

^  "  As  there  is  a  mystery  frequently  surround- 
ing this  somebody,  his  "^  wife  apologizes  in  a 
general  way  for  the  offences  of  an  unappre- 
ciative  public,  and  abases  herself  to  the  last 
degree  for  her  own  particular  transgressions. 
She  cautiously  smoothes  his  ruffled  feathers  and 


I 


:) 


r 


EOPLE. 

certainly 
lUge  cor- 
ago  i-he 
mv    h  US- 
humble 
le  Les  a 
')de.     lie 
I  a  side- 
sses,   de- 
nary  up- 
?nt.      In 
ith  seme 
amuses 

)robably 
congen- 
ve  hours 

a  verit- 
t  by  the 

that  he 
nybody 
my  idea 
is  made 
ful  and 
ink  and 
ing  dis- 
)ssessed 
in  apol- 

rround- 
s  in  a 
nappre- 
he  last 
Bssions. 
ers  and 


) 


TUB  MATltmoNIAL  COXFWEyCE  Cl.Vn.    335 

burns  incense  toliis  viinitv,  ami  in  tlie  course  „f 
a  few  days  l,o  recovers  sufficiently  o  mlS  h  , 
importance  felt  in  the  liousehol  {    vS-  Iv  the 

came  to  us  naturally.    We  are  tacitlv%  helplessll 

T  tS  fl    f  ^  1  ^^V^  ''^^  ^^  '^«  otherwise  when 
1  think  first  of  his  happiness  and  he  of  mine  ? 

Love  is  a  wonderful  thing.    I  am  filled  wth 
awe  when  I  think  of  it.    ^o  philosopher  has 
been  wise  enough  to  explain  it,  no  fiShou^ht 
IS  large  enough  to  compare  it.'   It  i^fo  Sv 
connected  with  our  spiritual  longings  Id  ilTus 
trates  so  truthfully,  though  in  a  comparat^ely 
small  way,  the  love  of  God  for  His  creatures 
that  those  who  understand  the  one  must  have 
a  clearer  comprehension  of  the  other     Wlnt 
souTsT  '"  ^^^^"^^^-%^b  to  sever  two  united 

"Can  anything  separate  me  from  mvh.is 
band's   love?    No,  tLnk  God!  X  Sov'd 

ThTt?.^^  ^  r,  ^^'^  ""d  ^-«  ^^^  oZ  foreve, 

us  3i'i^r^'^'  ''""'^'^  ^^^"1^1  ^^'^^  between 
us  and  resistless  circumstances  combine  to  kppn 

a3[n';io  'Z'%  '^'  ^^^"-^  to  each'ote 
according  to  the  divme  decree  which  provides 
not  only  for  the  temporary  union  of  flesh  but 
for  the  indestructible  union  of  spirit  To  mv 
mmd  love  is  the  emblem  of  immortality  S« 
SlSr  Pjr^  ''.  ^  -i^ening^^^^^^^^^^^^ 
01  eternity.  Certainly  it  does  not  end  with  thia 
jrfe;  for  even  death  itself  is  powerless  lo  stem 


83G  SAiyrs,  smysiis  and  queeii  people. 

its  progress.  It  is  the  river  of  pure  joy  which 
never  runs  dry.  Pounng  clear  from  its  ex- 
haustless  source,  Divine  love.  It  waters  every 
barren  spot  in  life,  revives  every  drooping 
blossom  of  g(wdness  in  the  soul,  and  empties  at 
last  into  the  ocean  of  intiniiv. 

"  I  li;i(l  never  given  much  thought  to  religious 
matters  till  I  met  and  loved  my  darling ;  after 
that  I  was  irresistibly  drawn  to  the  Giver  of 
such  a  good  and  perfect  gift.  To  make  this 
idea  clearei*  I  quote  a  sonnet  by  Christina  lios- 
setti,  which  exactly  expresses  my  mind  towards 
my  husband : 

*•  *  Trust  me,  I  have  not  earned  your  dear  rebuke, 
I  love  as  you  would  have  me,  God  the  most ; 
Would  lo:.e  not  Him,  but  you,  must  one  be  lost. 
Nor  with  Lot's  wife  cast  back  one  faithless  look 
Unready  to  forego  what  I  forsook  ; 
This,  say  I,  having  counted  up  the  cost 
This  though  I  be  the  feeblest  of  God's  host. 
The  sorriest  sheep  Christ  shepherds  with  His  crook 
Yet  while  I  love  my  God  the  most,  I  deem 
That  I  can  never  love  you  overmuch ; 
I  love  Him  more  so  let  me  love  you  too : 
Yea,  as  I  apprehend  it,  love  is  such 
I  cannot  love  you  if  I  love  not  Him, 
I  cannot  love  Him  if  I  love  not  you.' 

*'  I  think  that  one  reason  why  marriage  is  not 
universally  successful  is  that  people  are  too  apt 
to  look  at  it  from  a  temporal  point  of  view, 
and  lose  sight  of  its  deeper  spiritual  meaning. 
There  is  so  much  talk  about  marriage  which  is 
wide  of  the  mark,  so  much  stereotyped  advice 
as  to  the  kind  of  person  one  ought  and  ought 
not  to  marry,  that  the  process  ot  mating  is  be- 
^min^  artificial  and  calculating.    I  have  mor^ 


» '.. 


THE  MATUIMOMAL  CONFIDENCE  CLUU,.   337 

confidenco  in  u  natural  spontaneous  choice 
When  men  and  women  love  truly,  a  rec W 
tive  influence  is  set  at  work  in  tlieir  S^ef 
and  the  mere  fact  that  they  are  strong  enou'h 

deal  of  trouble  m  the  selection  of  a  wife     111 
to  mlrry      ''"""^^^'^^^  ^^n^^^sion  that  he  ought 

"lie  was  acquainted  with  a  number  of  excel- 
lent  girls,  any  one  of  whom  would  be  likely  to 
make  him  a  good  wife.  He  went  to  his  pastor 
and  asked  for  the  benefit  of  his  adyice  and 
co-operation,  which  was  readily  granted  The 
two  gentlemen  met  every  evening  for  a  week 
to  discuss  the  pros  and  cons  of  certain  eligible 

iW^^^^^^  "^  ^™*^  — i^^-  of 

"  Finally  they  found  a  young  lady  who  con- 
formed  to  their  high  standard  of  womanly  ex- 
cellence,  and  the  minister  gave  her  in  mar- 
riage to  the  s<3nsible,  cool-headed  young  m-in 
Observe  the  sequence.  She  is  a  faultless  wife; 
as  tar  as  one  can  judge  from  appearances,  but 
though  he  admires  her,  it  is  not  the  intimate 
admiration  which  comes  from  a  sense  of  pos- 
session. 1 

u  v  J?  f  ^""^  \^  ^^^'^'■^^  ^^^  perfections  with 
a  kind  of  remote  iwe,  and  in  matters  of  moral- 
ity  she  IS  a  second  conscience  to  him,  a  less 
flexible  and  comfortable  one  than   his   first 

Wo^o/''  ^•/'^  ^^  "^"""^  ^*  ^^'^  point  of  the  . 
bayonet    as  it  were,  and  wages   war  against 
many  of  his  habits  and  amusements.    In  r^ 

??  -  ■ 


■I!) 
i 


II I 


IP 


II  ' 


338    SAINTS,  SINNKIiS  AND  qUKKli  PEOPLE. 

taliation  lio  makes  homo  unpleasant  for  hov 
when  she  persists  in  attending  women's  ch.bs 
fhnl  l^^'^'r? ""^^^  societies.  One  has  only  to  seo 
them  together  to  know  that  they  are  not  the 
Mvain  in  one  but  two  very  distinct  and  separ! 
ate  individuals  chafing  in  soul  bonda-e  I^to 
would  have  cured  all  that.  So  you  sec^' E.  Uh 
itisn'tsafe  to  ignore  the  little  ^a  wUh  win  4* 
toTe      ^"^         ''""'^  '''  fashionable  as  ho  us'ed 

Like  DiaJi's  kiss,  unasked,  unsought, 
Love  gives  itself,  but  is  uot  hougTit ; 

Nor  voice,  nor  souiul  betrays 

Its  deep,  impassioned  gaze. 
It  comes,-the  beautiful,  tiie  free. 
The  crown  of  all  humanity, — 

In  silence  and  alone 

Taseok  the  elected  one.' 

"That  is  the  right  idea.  Ko  need  to  n-o 
anxiously  in  search  of  it.  It  come,  of  tseJf  ^f 
It  IS  the  Divine  will  that  it  should  eoerldmo 

t^^^^:^^^"^  '""^  ^-  -^^^  ^«  I- 

What  i  like  best  about  a  sanctified  love  union* 
IS  the  restfulness  and  contentment  it  brings 
Home  joys  are  so  precious.  We  minele  in 
society  to  a  moderate  extent,  but  prefer  infin- 
itely our  own  cozy  fireside.  I  hale  no  pettv 
anxieties  no  engrossin^r  vanities  and  vexations 

phy'^icaUy!'^         ^'''^'''^  '^'''"^  '""^^^^"^  ^"^ 
"It  is  a  ^reat  thing  to  preserve  perfect  equani- 
mity of  mmd  at  all  times,  to  be  free  from  the 


ujfitations  wliich  arc  (luiTiagiiis.  to  one's  (li..,w 
t.on  an,l  e,„„,,loxion.     Morc°wSmon  a  ■«     S" 
"lit   l,y  .lisoontont,  tlian   l.y  l,„,-,l   work    .n 
t.  ,u  .lo;  an.l    the  little  frictions  of  evervX 


7 

,  "  ^  ''f?  l.'f«!  ami  a  cheerful  heart  a  smilii... 

hav^.tht^''"^'  "sr  ;:^;'ri.  ^  "•/""'•"  ^"' 

or  fiituro        ilpnn        .1^  ^'^''^  ^""^  ^'^*^'  present 

^JK:^K^t';:^^s^r^:^r/'''^-^ 

J>nt  I  must  leavo  you  no\v,  for  lo   on  mv 
listening  oar  fulls  the  sound  of  a  step    n     h« 

little  man  m  the  Avorld  ""oHuesc, 

ti;eX'':nrirr''''-^''''-'"-'v^l^^ 

w«]f/iZ"f  '"""  '" '''""''™  ■■^"  invitation  to  your 
S"^'     "'"  "°'''  ""'•  ''^''''  y«>"-  affectionate 

"Caeuik  Wilson  IIowakd. 

r  have  copied  the  following  verses 

--,•—■      TJiey  were  written   bv  mv  siJer 

Addie,  the  poet  of  our  family,  ami  s^m  verv 

approDnate  to  this  o^"i»:«n    • '      "  ^"IJ?^ 


1 .  s. 

for  ^vou. 
Addle,  thv.  ^ 
approDriate 


11 


HER  SPHERE. 

A  maiden  sang  in  the  morning  lio-ht 
As  she  paused  on  the  threshold  of  Hf. 

Her  voice  was  elad  and  hli  1         ^^  "'®  =— 
And  hope  in  her  inSo^P^^  7^  ."^^^^  ^"g^* 

;A  trustin^g  brir/Z'ulT  coSo'bf  "'^ 

I  cmve  a  nobler  dastiny;  ™  ^'^  ^®' 

A  woman  sobbed  in  the  twilieht  .m  ,- 
|ier  e  t» -l^-e^^^VLty..  What  they  „ay. 

.   |?'«SS%^Skthth 
The  way  was  hard  and  fP^ght  "1?h  J^^  ^""  ' 
And  the  world's  naltrv  nra ;£  •  ^""Pa^n, 
I  would  count  it  r  fuK  JSureTA*?;  ^^^"  ' 

Oh,  that  my  youth  VnicrJ^f  !>         P*  ^^^^  "o  more. 

Miss  Lane  mechanicallv  foldert  tbo  i  .. 

dropped  forward    ntoW  hand:  a     T  '""" 

into  her  throat,  her  br^Tt  Z^l:atnZZ 

each  convulsive  breath.  '* 

"Oh,  God  I  I  am  so  lonely,"  she  ,vhispered 


fttE  MATRIMONIAL  CONFIDENCE  CLUB.  341 
passionately.  "Dear  God,  pity  me,  lean  to 
me!  lameoloiielt/r'  She  bad  no  other  words 
for  the  unspeakable  need  which  possessed  her. 
rt  was  the  formless  cry  of  a  hungry  heart. 
Such  prayers  are  ans./ered. 

In  due  time but  that  v/ould  lead  us  into 

another  story.     This  one  ends  here. 


THE   END. 


Recent  Publications 

BY  THE 

iUTflORS'  PDBLISflING  ISSOCIATIOH. 

has  been  made  to  soTvi  oL       '"f"''     ^°  ««enipt 

and  whereve^  rests  7^1  1''^  ^^^  '^"^  ^^'^  i 
smile.  The  readers' -f  J  r'  °,<=hange  it  into  a 
to  the  last  page       '     "'"^'°"  '^  ^^'^  from  the  firs? 

"  SAINTS.  SINNERS  AND  QUEER  PEOPI  p  m 

A  compilation  of  short  Yf^  •       .  ■^tOPLE."-- 

^^>'«.^«,  author  of  «  Love  Ai't^  ^^'^;^^  ^'^^^ 
elor."  ..Rochester  Seafl^t^^'e^' ??L?'^  «-^h- 
75  cents.  The  authoress  ,^J,«-  ^°''''  '^mo, 
tributor  to  the  «  M idS  m  It,*  '^^"^'"'''J  ^on- 
■niagazines,  has,  in  theM  ^°."*^  ^  ^"^^  "t^^er 
previous  undertaWn Js  in  'h7r,  '^'^'^' «''<=elled  her 
be  appreciated  by  all  thos.  T^'^  l'"^'  '*"d  will 
thetic  and  humor^ 'ie^pfctr^^^^  "'  ^^^s  of  pa- 

To  turn  at  wT  fmm  th.       •''  ''"^  ^"^^t"e  man. 


I'. 


is  laid  in  Germany  Wthl.^'"*"'^/   "»«  «""« 
persons  of  ranCK  t  kt  Xr^?""^  "^"^ 
penances  to  the  reader  dou\^y^:!;:re3i^„g.  '"'  ^^- 
"THEN,  AND  NOT   'TIL  THPm  »»     . 

C/ara  Nevada  McLe^^  C^^'  '^  "^^'^J-  '^X 
take  pleasure  in  imrrdtin»^V/'"°-/'-°°-  ^^'^ 
this  new  and  promSne  Ci/j'^  'T'''"^  P"''''^' 
story  is  certain  to  create  w  '  ^^"T  P^"'*^''''' 
This  book  has  been  wrhr.n  fuP""^^''  attention, 
the  authoress  has  InndJed  S  "V^  P"'"'^^^'  «"J 
comprehensive taie?tha?[hf''J''=/  '"  «"^''  « 

oneorti;emo^;S^^;;ssf^!^^t/^ 

"THE  BLUE  RlDQEnYSTERY"    a 

"igwith  Southern  evpnf^c-       T"^  "oveJ,  deal- 

oUne  ^«r//«  Solh  1 1''  "''  '^'  «"''■'  by  Car- 
question,  all  ove  s  of "Zi  I^''"*^  ^^•''•°»t 
read  the  above  Itorv      T^''  ''f''°"  "-i"  «'ant  to 

scription.  dXgTcha?a:t:rs'rnr''l''-°'  '" 
pleasures  and  vicissitudes  Siin^.E"'"""^  ^''1 
her  imag  nation  tenHs  f  A  T  ^  *"^  People  of 
usual  interest  °  P'"°^"'^^  *  ^^'^^e  of  un- 

"ScaHet,  or  White?" 

A    Novel,    by    Dr,    Willis   Mills. 


Cloth,  Embossed  m  Silver,  ,2  mo., 


♦l.oO. 


the  question  very  dehcately  "-//iS  W™"""    "'^  has'hZled 
«tteniion.'--c»./X^V;a?J!''  "  ''"ervinfir  of  coiwderaUon  a„d 


«« 


PROPERTY  OF  DON  QlLfeAR/* 

By  Henri  Block. 


-Daily  News,  GalveS,  Tex       *  ''""  '"  *=  """^  "x^k. 

having  advenluV  that  Lake, t,?l.r,P'^''"'  ">'"'  '™"> 
nal,  Lincoln,  Neb.  '  "'  '"'"'  wim.— Stale  Jour 

«oi.ing  i„ei,eL  intr„rLtl"^-,,^he.  a.  „.a„. 


-">••«'  «ic  ill; 

•Waverly  Magazine. 


dianonola  Record  ^      ^"'^  *'''^'"'  '''^  interest-lj 


out 


'^^oitXZx^:^^^^^^^^^  ^^^-  -♦h  an  advent.. 


"THE  STORY  OF  A  TRAIN  OF  CARS." 

larIe"oSe:td1p:„rUe'o?t"'''^"'>^--  '"to  a 
•-^  special  trai'n  made-up ti  h  cLe  thus"Th^  '"P^^'"^  f""- 
car.  a  first-front-hall-bedToom  c^/  l  m  ^f  ^  ''  *  ""«»■- 
garden  car,  etc    etc     Th»   m      ^'  *  .^oo^sh  theatre  car. 

the  fifty  centfasled  fir'  he'Sok  TZ''  ^"'  '!  '^  "^'^ 
something  that  cannot  be  oiIjZT  T™^  P^°P'«  ^o  find 
mercial  Advertiser  "^''^  elsewhere.-N.  Y.  Com- 

This  story  is  satirical  and  amusing.^Publishers  ^^  ,.,ly. 

to  s^e  at  all  book  store,  or  sent  prepaid  upon  receipt  of 
'        ■      ■      *      •      ■        50  Cents. 


i^^X 


%^  <^ 


"LINES    POR    aNDEAVojfBf^S.' 

Co»^ueaSj>  £„„„,  Halsey  .u^ntting. 
Clott,.  :6mo.    .    .   50  Cents. 

cZVl^,t33>■J;'e  >-k  .u«  or  ge„s  of  ftough, 
of  -mnspirad  singers^lXm  U,  isS."''  "«'  '""P 


«c 


•> 


'  Deborah.' 

By  Mary  Ives  Todd. 
COTH,    ,.„„,       .       .      \^^ 

Sal.  I.ke,"_Boi,eUe/aX;1ST?  '^!.f°-  "' 

^.  .0  life.  Such'Sarr^^"!?'  »"  ""Sn'S 
young  readers,  to  a  hatred  for  «?..  ■*'""==  ">oy  Irain 
.sm."_I„ter  Ocean,  ChSgo       "'"  ^""^  "•»"  "ealiw? 

wo:?^f„„~S/ra„'",'^  a  «.ro„g,  „„„^^^ 

i'.iWr  York  City. 


